The Prince and the Castle
by maryfgr23
Summary: The lost prince of a great kingdom finds himself in an enchanted castle. There he meets someone under a curse. A classic fairytale retold.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Once upon a time, there lived a young prince. He was dearly loved by his mother and father. They lived in the grand palace of Gotham, the greatest kingdom in all the land. The King and Queen were kind people who ruled with fairness and devotion. But for all their wealth and power, their son was their greatest treasure. They knew one day that he would grow up to become a great king. From the day he was born, the prince and his family lived each day together happily.

But one cold night, the young prince had a bad dream and left his bed to seek comfort from his parents in their chambers. When he pushed the door open, he saw blood on the floor. He looked up to see a hooded figure holding a crimson dagger over the lifeless bodies of the king and queen. Before he could even scream, Alfred, the royal family's faithful servant, grabbed the prince and bundled him away from the horror. The prince thought they were running away, but Alfred made his way through the shadowy castle halls silently and without haste. The prince was carefully concealed under his cloak. Alfred was careful not move in a way that would draw any attention from people who passed them. In the distance, the prince could hear a growing uproar of shouting and clashing weapons. Their soft steps suddenly became a swift run and before he knew it, they had both fled the castle. The prince was suddenly on the back of a horse gripping its saddle for dear life. He felt Alfred whipping the reins and holding him tight. The scenery blurred past and then there was nothing but darkness and the wind.

When they were somewhere deep in a forest, Alfred sat the prince down and told him what had happened. His parents had been murdered by the order of Duke Cobblepot. It seems the Duke had been plotting to usurp the throne for years. He and several traitors to the crown had seized the palace in the dead of night. Everyone in the palace who was loyal to the king and Queen were murdered all at once. The prince had narrowly escaped his own death by not being in his bedchamber when has was supposed to be. When he realized the plot, Alfred acted quickly and found the prince in time to get him to safety. He told the boy that the best thing he could do now for the kingdom was to stay alive and disappear. The prince was the rightful and sole heir to the throne. The Duke must never find him. The prince nodded grimly and the two continued their journey.

Alfred and the prince travelled a long distance, until the palace's tall towers were just a speck in the horizon. They found a cave deep in the mountains and settled there as their hideaway. As the young prince looked up at the stars through the blur of tears, he whispered a solemn vow to his parents that he would one day return to Gotham and bring them the justice they deserved. He would avenge their deaths and make Oswald pay.

It wasn't long before word of the royal family's deaths spread throughout the kingdom. Heralds reported the sudden and gruesome murders of the beloved king, queen and the young prince. Duke Oswald nobly stepped in to assume the power of the throne until the masterminds behind the plot were found. Anyone who so much as whispered an accusation against the Duke was charged with treason and subsequently jailed or tortured. Oswald enlisted a whole network of spies throughout the kingdom to report any dissent among the people. He also made sure to have the royal army under his thumb. He had everything in place to bend the kingdom to his will.

As the years passed, Cobblepot, the newly crowned King of Gotham continued to secretly search for the lost prince. His spies scoured every inch of the land in order to bring the boy back, dead or alive. The prince and his faithful friend continued to live a life in hiding. The prince himself, continued to live in mountain caves, far from most living souls. Alfred adopted the disguise of a hermit in the nearest towns so that he could continue to watch out for the spies and listen for any news that Cobblepot was getting any closer to the prince's whereabouts.

Meanwhile, the prince did not waste his time being idle in seclusion. He lived each day driven by the vow he had made. He filled his time with physical and mental education. When he wasn't learning different forms of combat and martial arts, he absorbed information of any kind. Over time, he amassed quite a collection of books and manuscripts for himself. Alfred, who had also once been a member of the royal guard, aided the prince in learning every skill he needed to. By the age of sixteen, the prince became quite tall for his age and acquired the bearing and dignity of someone much older and wiser.

As time passed, the prince would hear of the cruelty and carelessness of Oswald's rule. People were taxed into poverty. The crops of the poorest farmers were confiscated to feed the coffers of the king and his nefarious inner circle. Without any sense of order or justice, his beloved Gotham dissolved into crime and corruption. The prince could not simply stand back and watch his people suffer. He decided to help them, but he knew he had to be careful to keep his identity hidden. So he began to help people in secret. He used whatever he had learned from his self-training to defend the innocent from criminals and derail Oswald's graft. He fashioned many disguises that allowed him to move more freely in the shadows and remain unnoticed in public. Alfred did not approve of the prince putting himself in harm's way, but he could not stop him, though he tried. Secretly, he was very proud of the young man.

The people of Gotham were living in tyranny, but a streak of defiance sustained them. The term "Penguin" was a nickname the Oswald had earned in court, long before he rose to power as a duke. Behind his back, courtiers coined the nickname because he walked with a slight limp. The limp was a childhood affliction that caused the man shame his whole life. The combination of his gait and features apparently made him resemble some kind of ridiculous flightless bird. No one in court would dare utter the nickname near him now, but somehow the rabble got wind of it. Now that the duke was king, "penguin" took up a new meaning. The public used it to mean "false" or a "mock imitation". Despite Oswald's iron fist against any sort of treason, he couldn't stomp out their silent mockery. So the name stuck and he was soon known as the "Penguin King" throughout the kingdom and beyond its borders. As a result, "penguin" became a forbidden word punishable by death in Gotham.

Eventually there was talk of a rebellion being formed. At the forefront of this rebellion was the former knight, Sir James Gordon, who had served the king and queen faithfully in the past. He refused to serve Cobblepot and was branded a traitor to the crown. He and a handful of dishonored knights disappeared from public eye and began an underground operation. They started to gather followers with the aim to undermine Cobblepot's power and authority in Gotham. Upon hearing of this, the prince was inspired by the movement. He had to convince Alfred that they should both join their cause. Alfred refused at first, knowing that becoming active rebels would create a greater risk of the prince's true identity being discovered. Even the knights who remained loyal to the king and queen could not know he was still alive. But the prince was adamant, so Alfred agreed to offer his services as a spy for the rebellion, as long as the prince himself would remain an invisible member.

Thus, the prince aided the rebellion, using all his skills and resources. As a lone and anonymous agent, he found that he could handle missions that the rebellion found difficult to accomplish. He could work more efficiently on his own. He could easily break into strongholds and disable the security without sounding any alarm. Alfred would relay to him whatever task the rebels needed done for their larger plans to work. The prince would always be up for any assignment no matter how difficult or seemingly impossible. Over time, he became invaluable to the rebellion's operation. The people of Gotham became aware of the rebellion's growing success and hope began to spread throughout the land. Alfred would never give up the details of his highly skilled secret agent so the rebels began to call him nicknames like "The Gray Ghost" or "The Bat" among themselves. It seemed just as likely they were aided by some phantom or a creature of the night. The prince didn't mind staying unknown and uncredited for all his great deeds. All he cared about was doing good work.

One day, Alfred told the prince that he would be gone for a day or so for a quick reconnaissance mission. He warned the prince to be more discreet until he returned. He had heard talk that Cobblepot was straining his spy network to weed out members of the rebellion in every town and village. The prince assured him he would be careful and wished him a safe journey. With Alfred gone, the prince kept up his usual patrol in neighboring villages. When he was not heavily in disguise, he was careful to be as unremarkable and forgettable as possible. He was already used to being an unfamiliar face to most people wherever he went.

A few days passed and the prince waited to receive word from his friend. He waited a few more days, but there were no messages, signs or signals from Alfred at all. The prince began to worry. As a safety measure, Alfred set up a protocol they would both follow if they were living apart or working separately. The had to send word or signal to each other every three days, if only to show proof of life. Five days had already passed.

The prince left his cave and decided to check Alfred's hermitage in the village. He arrived in time only to meet Alfred's horse, Grayson, hurrying up to a well by the stable. As soon as he reached the well, he almost drowned himself to quench his thirst. The animal looked like he had been running for days. He stamped and threw up dirt in agitation. He was exhausted but he couldn't keep still like he was still experiencing some kind of fright. Grayson was a war horse. He wasn't spooked easily. The prince's heart went cold seeing Alfred's saddle missing. There was no trace of his belongings. He waited for the horse to have enough to drink and helped him settle his nerves. Working quickly, he gave him food to eat as he rubbed down the creature's sore muscles. When Grayson was calm and fairly rested, the prince then quickly replaced his saddle and ordered him to take him to where he had left Alfred behind.

The steed promptly took the prince into the woods. At first, they travelled through familiar roads, passing by well-known towns, but as they went deeper, the prince noticed that they began taking paths he no longer recognized. The trees grew close and thicker, until the sun could no longer shine through them. Soon they were no longer on any discernible path or trail. They were simply climbing and stumbling over jutting rocks and root. The wood was growing wilder around them, but they kept up their pace. The prince became aware that they were completely lost.

Suddenly the prince could see his own breath thicken and disappear into the air. A sudden chill seeped into his bones. He stopped Grayson when saw that the woods before them was covered in snow. They hadn't climbed anything higher than a hill all day and it was the middle of the summer season, but he found himself standing before a dimension in the forest that was deep in winter. Magic was the only explanation for this. The prince grew more tense but he was unperturbed. He pulled his cloak tight against the cold and guided Grayson carefully into their new snowy terrain.

When they came upon a clearing among the trees, Grayson stopped and stomped at the ground. The prince's eyes immediately spotted and recognized some of Alfred's belongings scattered in the snow. Next to them were tracks of Grayson's hoof prints interspersed with the unmistakable markings of wolves. There were clear signs of a struggle and there was blood dried on the snow. The prince dismounted to inspect it more closely. There wasn't much blood on the scene where the pack must have flanked them then attacked. He couldn't be sure how severe Alfred's injuries were. The prince tried hard not to think the worst. He focused on the evidence in front of him. Alfred and Grayson were probably separated. Having been cornered, Grayson must have panicked and thrown off his rider. Alfred must have hit the ground running and the wolves gave chase to the prey that already wounded and much slower on foot.

After giving the scene another quick glance, the prince got back on Grayson, and followed the wolf tracks. Occasionally, he would note a light blood trail among the paw prints. He kept his eyes focused on the ground, tracking the progress of the hunters. They seemed to slow down and stop before turning away to the opposite direction, almost as if they abandoned their hunt altogether. He looked up abruptly when he heard the soft squeaking of metal.

It was a gate. He straightened up fully and saw that it was the only entryway along a large wall that stood as high as the trees. The wall itself was covered in vines and greenery that he couldn't be sure how far along it was before it merged into the forest. He hesitated for a moment. He looked at the tracks he had been following. The wolf tracks had stopped just before the gate but the prince saw the blood trail cross into the threshold.

Without another thought, he went through the gate, but stopped again when he finally saw the castle.

It was nothing like the palace of his childhood. There were no torches lit along the walls nor any warm lights shimmering within its stained glass windows. The thick forest stopped short outside the gate but it's feeling of desolation flowed right into the land he walked into. He could see the sky again and twilight had long passed, yet the castle was in total darkness. Even with so little light, the prince could still tell that it was a crumbling ruin. Its facade seemed worn away like rocks on a seaside. It reminded him of old medieval castles that had simply diminished from neglect and time. The grounds were also covered in heavy snow. No roads had been cleared for people or carriages.

His own personal research had confirmed the existence of magic and how it pervaded bits of the realm. He hated the idea of dealing with it because it was unpredictable and there seemed to be no way for him to understand it completely. From what he could gather, magic was just another natural element in the world that historically did more harm than good, at least when humans were involved. He felt it was no coincidence finding an abandoned looking castle hidden within an enchanted forest. Whatever magic was affecting the woods, the castle was at the center of it. Or whatever it was that was inside it. Regardless of what he was walking into, Alfred was hurt somewhere inside and needed help.

Making their way through the deep snow, he and Grayson soon found themselves upon the entrance. Sure enough, he saw footprints on the steps leading into it. The large entrance door was left open. The prince looked up at the forbidding structure. He wondered for a moment if any outsiders like him ever left the same way.

The prince secured Grayson close by and cautiously entered the doorway. As the heavy door creaked open, he unsheathed his sword. He called out to Alfred in the darkness, but his voice only shook old dust loose into the air. Hey could barely make out anything in the dark. The echo in his voice and footsteps simply told him he was in a large empty room. He walked on further and then he was able to make out some dusty candelabras on a table. It still had candles with usable wicks but he realized he had no means to light it. He cursed under his breath and he muttered to himself that he really needed some light. Suddenly warm light bloomed in front of him. He jumped back in surprise. Every wick on the candelabras was lit. The prince whirled around to find a cause, but he was all alone in a dimly lit entrance hall. He turned his attention back to the candles themselves. He began to inspect them more closely when the sound of distant coughing broke the still air. The prince recognized Alfred's voice.

He grabbed the lit candelabras and found it easier to navigate his way. He followed the echoes of Alfred's voice up a long staircase. He climbed and climbed until he realized he was climbing up the steps of a high tower. As he got closer, he became certain that the voice belonged to his friend. The prince began to cry out to him, "Alfred! Alfred, where are you?"

He reached the top of the steps and saw a single prison cell at the end of the small chamber. Alfred was leaning weakly against the steel bars. The prince's heart lifted and he bounded up right away towards him. Alfred was still hacking and coughing but his eyes lit up when he recognized the prince. The prince dropped to his knees and gripped Alfred's hands through the cold bars. "Alfred, your hands are like ice." It was all he could say as he looked his friend over. He was clearly running a high fever. The prince could also see that Alfred had an injured leg that he managed to bandage himself. It must be where the wolves had managed to take a bite of him. "We have to get you out of here." He began to apply pressure to the bars and searched for a weak spot.

But Alfred seemed to ignore his words, "No, your Highness-you can't stay here another moment. You must leave at once." Alfred tried to keep his voice steady but his whole body was seized by the cold. His teeth were chattering and he was shivering in his heavy cloak. "This whole castle has magic! If you don't try to escape now, she can trap you here too!" The prince wasn't sure he understood. "What do you mean? Who is she?"

"Me," answered a voice in the darkness.

Suddenly, a loud thunderous crack filled the whole tower. The prince jolted back to see two gleaming beads of light staring straight at him. It belonged to a figure that descended slowly along the wall, as if walking on air. As the creature came towards him slowly, it gave a low, sinister yowl.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2:

The two unblinking beads continued to stare at the prince. The figure stayed in the shadows, but the prince noticed from its strange silhouette that it held something that he recognized. He realized that the crack that shook the walls had come from a thick leather whip. The creature gave another yowl of menace. When it spoke again, the prince realized the voice indeed sounded like it belonged to a young woman's.

"I am the master of this castle. The old man trespassed into my home. He's my prisoner. You can't take him from his cell."

"Please," the prince pleaded, "He was being hunted and he needed shelter. If you leave him like this, he'll die. Just let me take him home and you won't see us again."

The figure cracked her whip once more and her voice narrowed "Don't you dare tell me what to do, boy. The old man can die in that cell for all I care. Be grateful it's much better than being torn apart by wolves." She turned away like she was done with him and began climb back up into the shadows. "I don't want my tower filled up with more idiots. Get out of my castle before I change my mind."

The prince stood his ground. "I'm not leaving here without Alfred".

Without turning around, the figure said, "Get him out."

Suddenly, a suit of armor that stood innocuously against the wall by the cell door, came to attention. It sheathed the sword it held in its metal glove and grabbed the prince by the waist. It tried to throw him over its shoulder but the prince moved quickly. He began to strike several times with his blade and hilt, aiming for the joints in the arm to wound his attacker. Upon impact, one armored arm dislodged itself from the rest of the body and fell to the floor with a loud clang. To his horror, the prince realized that the armor was hollow. Its sudden dismemberment didn't slow it down in the slightest. It was like being pulled away by a stone wall. It was useless to fight back.

The prince dropped his sword and cried, "Wait! Wait! Please, just take me instead!"

The castle's master didn't seem to hear him. The prince strained to take a step forward but the armor held him back. He continued to plead, "I beg you. Alfred raised me and protected me my whole life. He's saved me more times than I can count. I can't leave him to die here alone." The prince strained forward until he could drop to his knees and bow. "I swear to you on the memory of my mother and father that I will not try to escape and I will be your prisoner. You can command me as your servant. I will fulfill any task you ask of me."

The master made no response, but she turned towards the prostrated figure before her.

Meanwhile, Alfred struggled to remain upright against the bars and weakly protested at the prince, "You bloody fool! No-take it back-! You can't stay here-!" but his own sick throat interrupted him.

Finally the master spoke, "You'd really trade the rest of your life for this geezer?"

The prince looked up to meet her gaze in the shadows evenly, "Yes."

"Then you _are_ an idiot. Go play hero somewhere else. Your words mean nothing to me."

She started to turn away again, but suddenly the prince managed to free one of his hands and there was a glint of metal. He held a dagger to his chest, ready to pierce his heart.

"I will give you my life. In exchange for his."

The figure in the dark didn't move or say anything for a long time. Alfred was so horrified, he had stopped breathing.

"Let him go," the master commanded the armor, "Take the old man to the edge of the forest and leave him there. Make him go quietly." The armor immediately released the prince and opened the cell door. Before Alfred could even protest, it spouted some kind of gas from its helmet straight into his face. Alfred fell limp and the hollow puppet threw him easily over its shoulder. The prince grit his teeth as he watched Alfred disappear down the stairs, leaving the tower.

Out of nowhere, a whip cracked at his hand causing him to drop his dagger. The pain jolted back his attention. The master of the castle was leaving the shadows and walking towards him.

"You, boy. I don't think you know the difference between being brave or crazy."

Suddenly, a small portion of her silhouette separated itself and moved ahead at its own pace. As it came closer, the prince realized it was a willowy old cat. It must have been the source of the yowling. It still growled at the prince under its breath as it padded towards him.

Its master slowly came into the light. It _was_ a young woman. Given the cold, she was wearing a heavy cloak lined with various furs but he could tell that she wore a dress underneath it. Both the cloak and dress looked ragged. The garments may have been fine once before but they looked very worn. Her hair was a shock of wild golden curls. She wasn't even as tall as him; in fact she was much shorter. He was still unnerved when he saw her fully revealed.

She was wearing a mask. The beads of light he mistook for her eyes in the dark were glass lenses that veiled her eyes. The mask was decorated in a way to give it the facade of a menacing cat. It concealed every inch of her features. She was probably staring right into his eyes but he could never know. He glanced at her hands in tight leather gloves. She did indeed posses a long whip that ended with a set of cat o' nine tails. He didn't doubt she knew how to use it.

He couldn't help staring. The masked young lady stared right back.

"Well? Come along then, servant. You're mine now."

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She held up the candelabras that he had brought up to the tower and led him back down the dark hallways of the castle. Her cat vanished into the shadows to attend to its own affairs. The prince followed the masked young woman obediently in silence. For a long while, they did not speak and the only sound made between them were their soft footsteps.

As they descended the grand staircase, the young woman finally said to him, "You will call me 'Master' or 'Lady'."

"Yes, my lady."

She glanced at his direction, checking his voice for any hint of insolence. "If you're going to stay here, I want you to understand one rule. Don't go anywhere near the west wing of this castle."

"Yes, my lady."

She whirled around at his automatic response. "I mean it," her voice went low and much sharper. "That area is mine. If you ever set one foot in the west wing, I will scratch your eyes out before leaving you to freeze in the highest tower." She held the candle flames up his face threateningly, but the prince didn't blink. He met the glassy gaze of her mask evenly and replied, "Yes, my lady, I understand you."

She accepted this more measured response and continued onward down the steps. "I don't even know why I'm going along with this. The last thing I need is a servant." She set down the candelabras on the nearest table and snapped her fingers quite loudly. Before the echo could even die, the whole room was filled with light. All the candles in the chandeliers high above them had lit themselves. The prince could see the room they stood in clearly for the first time. They were in the great hall, which contained a long table for dining in the center. The room had a high ceiling with tall windows. It was a grand room but it had long been unused. All the furniture was hidden completely under dusty covers. The windows were covered by thick and aging curtains.

"Just so you know, the castle is magic and it does whatever I ask."

"Don't get used to it though. I hate magic and you're not allowed to use it." She snapped her fingers again and the room returned to darkness. She picked up the candelabras and made her way towards the doorway at the other end of the hall. The prince followed without missing a beat.

"It does get boring here, so you could be entertaining for a while." The prince thought he saw a sinister look cross her face.

"So you say you'll do whatever I tell you to do, huh? Fine, let's put that to a test."

She had brought him to a storeroom past the kitchens. As she opened the door, a gust of white flurries escaped the room. They both walked inside, and for a moment, the prince felt like he had entered a cloud. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he realized that every inch of the room was covered in a multitude of feathers. The air from the opened door sent thousands flying through the air. If he didn't breathe carefully, he could easily inhale a lungful and choke.

"Your job for tonight is to clear the room of feathers and return them to their sacks. I'll give you until tomorrow morning. Then I'll decide if you're more useful in a dungeon." Without another word, she shut the door behind her, sending more feathers flying through the air.

The prince stared at the predicament before him and began to think.

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The suit of armor stopped walking when at last it had reached a random spot at the edge of the forest. It dropped Alfred's limp body on the ground and clanked away back to the castle. Alfred lay unmoving for a while before he started to regain consciousness. When he awoke, he realized that the air was warmer and there was no longer snow in the forest around him. He could see a cloudless night sky through the trees and felt the summer wind blow against his face.

He began to cough violently again, but he struggled to his feet. He leaned against a trunk for support and looked around for the direction he must have come from. He could not see a path, but he started to stumble through the trees anyway, hoping for some kind of change in temperature or a trace of snow so he could find his way back to the prince. Alfred ran in circles for almost an hour, but he never found the way back. He cursed under his breath before collapsing against a tree.

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The master of the castle rose with the sun the next day. She secured the mask over her face and went to check on her unfortunate new servant. She wondered how long he actually tried to complete the task she gave him before giving up. She was already trying to decide how long she would leave him in the dungeon before giving him another impossible task. She was in such deep thought that she didn't notice she had not been hit with a face full of feathers when she opened the door to the storeroom. She blinked when she realized the room was spotless. There was not a single feather in sight. It was also quite tidy and cleaned of dust.

The prince was securing the last of the sacks that must have contained all the feathers in the room. He bowed slightly when he saw the master enter. "Good morning, my lady," he said placidly. He didn't look the tiniest bit smug. His expression remained neutral as he stood back and let his work speak for itself. The master only paused for a moment before going over to inspect the contents of the sacks. She confirmed they were indeed filled with feathers. She looked carefully around the small room before she turned back to the prince and said, "You didn't cheat, did you? You're not hiding some magic lamp, are you?"

The prince shook his head. "No, my lady. I'm also not very fond of magic. I just did as you asked."

She tried to read his expression. He didn't seem to be lying to her. "Alright, I don't care how you did it. This job was probably easier than I thought." She turned to the door and went back out. "Come on. I'll give you some real work to do."

The prince caught the clump of fur she had picked up off the floor and thrown at him. He coughed and blinked at the dust that scattered when he caught it. When he looked at it again, he realized it was a coat. "You're going to be spending a lot of time outside. You might need that." She had slipped on her own fur cloak along with a thick pair of boots. She was already on her way out the castle's back passage and into the cold morning air. The prince followed her closely without complaint. They walked past the stables. The prince was happy to see that Grayson had made himself at home inside. He seemed to get along with the lady's own mount that already lodged there. It looked like an old cart horse that was put out to pasture a long time ago. It grunted at him when they went by.

He wondered if the lady had noticed that Grayson had a fresh supply of hay and a blanket, but she made no comment. The prince had enough time to tend to him before completing his task from last night.

The master and her servant headed towards the woods. At first they followed a well-worn path, but then the master soon deviated from it. She started to dart past trees, leap over fallen logs and hop over rocks. They traveled for a considerable time, but she never tired nor slowed in her step. It was clear that she knew these woods intimately. The prince was conscious to keep up with her pace.

They finally stopped when they reached a pond. The master bent down and picked up a random stick from the ground. She threw it at the prince and he caught it. "Today, I'm giving you three tasks." She pointed at the pond, "Your first one will be to drain that pond using only that stick." She was smirking inside her mask when he looked at the stick in his hands and back at the pond. The winter hadn't frozen the surface, but the murky waters still looked extremely cold. She turned around and began to walk towards a different direction. "Your second task is by the lake." He kept ahold of the stick and followed her. A few minutes walk from the pond, they came upon a lake that flowed between two cliffs. The master walked over to the lake's sandy bank where there was a pile of stones as tall as she was. She patted one of the stones and said, "I want you to build me a bridge out of these rocks. Feel free to use the same stick I just gave you." The prince stared at the immovable structure she stood on. "I'm sure this will keep you busy for a couple of months or so." She jumped off the rock and skipped her way back in the direction of the woods as she landed. "You can come back to the castle when you've finished. Find a way to stay warm while you're out here."

She continued to walk away when the prince said, "Wait."

The master stopped and turned, "Is there a problem?"

"You said there were three tasks." The prince now held the stick limply at his side. His expression was like stone. The master began to wonder if he was really taking any of this seriously.

"Oh yeah," she said. She looked around and raised her head until she saw something in the direction of the cliffs. "There," she pointed a finger and said, "Fetch me a feather from the nest that's built at the top of the highest tree on the edge of that cliff." The prince raised his eyes and searched the cliff edges. He couldn't be exactly sure which tree she meant. He was still searching when the lady turned and walked away. "Remember if you have any problems completing the tasks, you're welcome to a more peaceful life in my dungeon." She waved him a mocking goodbye without turning around and disappeared among the trees. The prince inspected the stick he held in one hand and considered the dirty mass of fur he held in the other. He stood alone with his thoughts for a long time as he listened to the river beside him.

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Two weeks passed and the master had already forgotten about the strange boy who had arrived in her castle one evening. After all the nonsense she asked him to do, anyone would have just escaped to the forest as soon as they had the chance. There was no way he was going to keep his word. A few days after she had left him in the forest, she simply put him out of her mind and assumed he made his way home. She did notice that he had left his horse in the stables, which was a rotten thing to do. She continued to care for it out of pity. She was glad that he got along with her own reliable old steed, Slam. She didn't know how he got through the forest on foot, but she didn't care. She didn't mind that he escaped. As far as she was concerned, she was glad to be rid of him.

One morning she decided to go out hunting. She was quite fond of using a crossbow. She had just spied a bird of prey sitting on a branch. It was busy feasting on a fresh kill in the nook of a branch. It was still unaware of her presence, as she drew close and took aim. She had her finger ready on the trigger when a voice behind her said, "Excuse me, my lady."

She didn't cry out in surprise but she did dispatch the bolt. The arrow missed, startling her target. It fled swiftly among the trees. The carcass of its fresh kill dropped into the snow. She whirled around in fury. She was already yelling at the boy before she realized he was standing there, "Dammit you spoiled my shot!"

He bowed slightly and said, "Forgive me, my lady."

She stood back a bit and looked at him. "What? What are you still doing here? I thought you had run off or something."

"No, my lady. I gave you my word that I wouldn't try to escape."

She shook her head. "God, you're unbelievable. What do you want then?"

"I've come to let you know I've finished all your tasks."

The lady snorted at him, "Yeah right. All of them?" she asked dryly.

The prince nodded. He gestures towards the forest and said, "Yes. Come and see."

The lady tilted her head, not sure it was wise to take him seriously. He didn't look any worse for wear since she had left him. He was wearing the coat she had given him though it looked like he had cleaned it up somewhat. As always, his expression betrayed nothing. She considered the strong possibility that he had gone mad in the two weeks he had spent alone in the woods.

She sighed and said, "Alright. Show me."

They had reached the location of the pond. The young lady inspected it closely. All that was left of the pond itself was a muddy pit and the remaining plant life that had thrived in the watery depths before it had been drained. She looked at it for a long time, saying nothing. She turned to the prince and said, "Where's the stick?"

He seemed to have expected this question, so he produced it from behind his back and gave it to her. She turned it over in her hands. It didn't look damaged in any way that she could tell. A small trace of a smile seemed to creep into his face. She didn't look up, but she kept ahold of the stick. She started to make her way towards the lake.

They arrived at the sandy banks by the cliffs. Somehow, several large rocks had been moved from the side of one cliff and embedded themselves into the river. They could each provide a foothold for anyone who might wish to cross the river safely. She stood at the river's edge and considered any way she could invalidate this as a bridge. She gave up and turned towards the boy. She jabbed the stick at his general direction in an accusing way.

"Is this a trick? You've been using magic, haven't you?"

"No, I promise. I haven't used any magic," the prince replied.

"Then how did you do all this? Even if you could have done this alone, it should have taken you months."

The prince shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, "The problems of each task could be solved with a bit of time and energy."

The lady crossed her arms, "Just tell me how you did it. Start with that first night and the feathers."

It had been a simple matter of finding some wool. The prince had found a whole collection of wool in another storeroom. He then wrapped some woolen fibers over several wooden handles and made a special kind of duster for feathers. By continuously rubbing two sticks of wool together, it would generate enough attractive force that would cause feathers to cling more readily to the fibers. He collected the feathers this way and stuck them into their sacks with more ease than if attempted to do it by hand.

The lady only grunted at this explanation and moved him on to the matter of the pond and bridge.

The prince knew that a pond was actually a kind of basin. Ponds technically weren't supplied with water from larger bodies of water like a lake. The water they contained usually came from rain. The prince had to search the bottom the pond for a clay base that kept most of the water from draining into the naturally porous earth. What made this task difficult was wading in the cold water. The prince only had a limited time to remove as much clay as he could before he had to get warm and dry. But he made sure to build a natural shelter with a large fire nearby. Overall, it only took him a few days to clear enough clay to create a large enough drain.

He pointed at the stick she held. "I actually did use the stick you gave me. I used it to tap clay rocks at the bottom and pry them out from the mud. I was lucky the pond wasn't that deep."

As for the rock bridge, the prince noted that the rocks sat on sand. He applied the same methods that ancient Egyptians had used in moving large rocks. He collected several logs in the woods and formed a row in front of each large rock. He would push the rock over the logs and they would roll it towards the lake. The loose sand made it easy for the logs to roll. He also needed to calculate which smaller rocks he needed to move out of the way on each bank. This way, he could easily lever the bigger rocks to fall where they needed to. This whole process required a lot of precise calculation in predicting how the rocks would fall, tumble and slide. He worked tirelessly until he had two rock paths from either side of the lake meet in the middle to form a bridge.

"I'm glad it worked. Sometimes, these things only work in theory." He did look relieved in that moment. He was quite proud of what he accomplished.

If she hadn't been wearing a mask, the master would have gaped openly at prince. It was incredible how practical each solution was when he explained it. It was like a magic trick. Something marvelous was accomplished with a bit of sleight of hand and clever thinking.

"Wait," said the master, remembering, "what the about the third task?"

"Oh yes, that." The prince reached into his pocket and produced a tiny red feather. He presented it to her for inspection.

She didn't take it from him. She couldn't believe it. "You mean you actually climbed up the tallest tree on the cliff?"

"Well, I know a bit about the ornithology of the land. It's likely only one type of bird has built a nest high on a tree above those cliffs." He put the feather back in his pocket and reached inside his other pocket. He brought out a tiny red-breasted robin and perched it on his shoulder. He whistled at it and the little bird answered him back with a similar reply.

"I just happen to be good at bird calls."

The robin pecked at him slightly before flying away towards the cliffs. The prince turned towards the mask that stared at him and asked, "So my lady, have I done well?"

The master had no idea what to do with this boy.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

The master of the castle didn't have the patience or temperament to keep testing the prince. It seemed like giving him any kind of "impossible" task was pointless because he would eventually find a clever way to solve it. She decided it was simply easier to give him tedious tasks to do. She would be able to keep a better eye on him and it kept him mostly occupied.

On his first day back at the castle, she set him to work scrubbing and cleaning all the pots and pans in the kitchens. Then he moved on to clean the kitchens themselves. The lady eventually left him to use his own prerogative on how to go about his tasks; thus, he graduated to the general upkeep of the entire castle. Some days he would wash all the windows, vigorously scrubbing all the floors or devote himself to polishing all the silver and gold cutlery that he could find. The prince was aware that most of the tasks he was being asked to do could easily be accomplished by the castle's magic, but he noted that the castle's magic was only ever used to light fires and keeping rooms warm. The lady herself didn't rely on magic in her own daily activities.

She lived quite simply. The mask she always wore was her only affectation. She wore the same comfortable clothes, ate whatever was placed in front of her and frequently spent time outdoors.

As far as he could tell, she was the only person living in the castle. Besides her cat and horse, he never encountered another living soul.

After a few weeks at the castle, he actually considered asking the master if he could simply leave. He had given his word that he would be willing to spend the rest of his life as a servant in the castle, but the master herself didn't seem too keen on holding him to that word. If anything, she'd be quite happy if he had gone. It seemed his presence was nothing but an annoyance to her. But he stopped himself when he had these thoughts. If he left, he would be essentially leaving a young girl all alone in a crumbling castle hidden within an enchanted forest. Even if he left with the intention of returning, there was a chance the magic over the forest would render any map he made useless. Whether she wanted it or not, he needed to help this girl. The only way he could do that was to stay and learn more about who she was and why she was there.

He grew accustomed to his new life as a servant, and came up with more and more questions everyday. Why was this particular castle under and enchantment? Why was it only inhabited by a mysterious young lady? By all accounts, she was a mortal girl that possessed no magical powers of her own. The prince had ruled her out as the source of the enchantment.

He then contemplated the possibility that the lady may have wished these circumstances on herself. Many people would consider living alone in a magic castle an attractive prospect. One would simply need to find a powerful magic being or artifact to make it happen. But this theory wasn't supported by her behavior. She lived in solitude but she didn't seem content. She didn't seem to have a particular fondness for the castle itself. She only took advantage of its magical properties to the bare minimum. If the castle was powered by magic, she could have lived in finery and luxury every day by merely wanting it. Instead, she let everything around her deteriorate. The castle grounds were mostly overgrown and wild. The interior was quite sparse and unkempt. Most of the furniture was either covered up or stored away.

There was a restlessness in the way she tried to fill her days with as much activity as she could. She didn't spend much time inside. When she wasn't withdrawn in the west wing, she was usually outdoors. The weather surrounding the castle was obviously induced by magic, being in a constant state of winter. Despite the cold however, the lady never tired of escaping outside. The prince began to note the usual routes she took to hunt and traverse. After a while, he noticed patterns. Wherever she entered and returned from the forest, it was within a certain perimeter. She never traveled beyond the woods that left the vicinity of the castle grounds.

The prince was careful not to ask any questions or make his observations noticeable. The prince kept true to his word and acted as a good servant. The master had come to a begrudging acceptance that he was there to stay. She had subsided in her attempts to torment him with grueling labor. The prince came to understand that she wasn't necessarily a cruel person, but she was very guarded and proud. Any inquiry into her life or the castle would have angered her. She already considered his existence quite irritating so he had to tread carefully around her short temper. They eventually learned just to stay out of each other's way. It was easy enough for two people to have very little interaction in a large castle.

But the longer the prince stayed, the more he had the nagging impulse to find the answers to his questions. He was becoming apprehensive. He was anxious to know how Alfred was doing. He hoped his friend had managed to get back to the village and recover from his illness and injuries. He also wondered about the current state of Gotham. He had been gone a while. He worried about how the rebellion was faring without his help. He grew more anxious everyday. Eventually, he decided that he had to take some action.

He was free to roam the castle, though he made sure to keep away from the west wing as he was warned. He could examine the place as much as he wanted, but there were certain rooms in the castle that were kept locked. As an agent for the rebels, he had developed the skills to gain access to any secure location. But the rooms were closed off with magic. The master of the house was vigilant in keeping her secrets well guarded. There was nothing he could do but wait until he could find other ways to gather information.

There was also something else that was a growing concern. Once in a while, there would be a sudden earthquake that shook the castle. He didn't think much of it at first, but as it happened more regularly, he started to think it was connected to the castle's enchantment. There was always a moment after a quake when the magic in the castle would falter. Fires would burn out, fragile items held secure by magic would suddenly roll off surfaces and crash, and he could sense an odd change in the air. All this would happen at once and very briefly. It didn't seem to leave the castle's magic any weaker, and it didn't make any kind of discernible change in the surroundings. But he seemed to know instinctively that it meant something sinister. If some powerful force was affecting the entire castle that way, it was potentially dangerous.

Whenever the earthquakes would happen, the master would be visibly perturbed. The first few times it happened, he asked her, "What was that?", but she just snapped at him to go back to work and walked away. The event would usually set her off in anger and she would spend the rest of the day trying to work out her frustration with nonstop activity. Sometimes though, it would leave her in a melancholy state and she would spend a day or so holed up in her rooms in the west wing. She would always come back out when she got hungry enough.

One day, it happened again. The quake had left the castle with a few more broken plates. The prince heard the master retreat into the west wing by the sound of slamming doors. He sighed and cleaned up the mess in the aftermath. He knew he would simply need to stock the larder and pantry with food when she decided to come back out. The rest of the afternoon, he busied himself with weeding out the vegetable garden and collected some grain to bake bread for her meals.

He spent the next few days keeping busy when he noticed that the master still hadn't emerged from her rooms. All of the food he had prepared for her was untouched. He became concerned about how long she may have gone without eating. He decided to take up some food to her personally. He reached the door to the west wing and knocked. When he didn't receive a reply, he called out to her, "My lady, would you like something to eat? I've brought you some food."

Silence answered him. He knocked again, "My lady, are you there?"

Suddenly a hoarse voice barked at him from behind the door, "Go away."

The prince persisted, "You haven't eaten in almost three days, my lady. Are you feeling ill?"

She answered him more angrily, "I'm _fine_. Just leave me alone."

The prince sighed, "I've left you a meal here. Please eat something." He set the tray of food down in front of the door and left.

He went back later that night to check if she had taken the tray. To his dismay, it lay cold and ignored. He knocked on the door again and called out to her with more authority in his voice, "My lady please come out and have a meal." He waited for her response but he heard nothing. The door was magically locked. He couldn't force himself inside even if he wanted to. It wouldn't have helped the situation, but he feared for her health. If she suddenly fainted from hunger on the other side, he wouldn't be able to get to her.

Suddenly, he heard her voice.

"I told you to go _away_. I'm not hungry."

It was a relief to know she was still responsive.

"My lady, I don't know what's troubling you, but you must come out to eat."

There was a sudden bang and the door rattled. She must have thrown something at it.

The prince stood back and spoke to her with an even tone, "My lady if you don't eat then neither will I."

He heard a muffled snort and then, "Fine, then. Go ahead and starve."

He stepped back from the door and made sure to bow and scrape audibly enough for her to hear. "As you wish, my lady. We will both starve. If you change your mind, I'll have your food warm and ready for you downstairs." He took the tray of food he had left earlier and brought it back with him.

He did exactly as he said and prepared a warm meal for her in the kitchen. When he was done, he closed the door to the kitchen behind him and decided to sit in the storeroom. He would be able to hear her if she entered the kitchen. An hour or so passed and he wondered if he should go back upstairs to try and persuade her once more. Just as the clock was about to strike for midnight, he heard the kitchen door open. He listened closely and heard the unmistakable sounds of the master's footsteps. He heard her uncover some of the food and an approving meow from her cat, who must have accompanied her. He waited and listened to the sound of cutlery and quiet dining until he was confident that she was having a meal at last.

He quietly exited the storeroom and left her to enjoy her meal alone. He wondered if he should leave a bowl of fruit near her door in case something like this happened again.

He was on his way up the grand staircase that connected the east and west wing when he noticed that the lady had accidentally left the door open to the west wing. The prince stopped and stared. He had just left her in the kitchen. This was probably his only chance to learn something about the castle. He looked over his shoulder once before quickly stealing inside.

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His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting within. It was a quite a large chamber. Several tall candelabras with a multitude of candles provided light throughout the interior, but he flames remained low and flickering. He noticed a door hanging ajar to his right that revealed a large bedchamber within. To his left was a passageway. It drew his interest because of the series of paintings adorning the walls. They were mostly paintings of the castle and what must have been its past inhabitants. There were images of courtiers on picnics, royal hunting events and outdoor dances. Every painting along the walls seemed to lead up to one very large painting that hung as the centerpiece of a spacious study room. The prince scrutinized it carefully. It was a beautiful rendering of two people holding hands as they posed in a garden: a man who was richly dressed and a beautiful woman in a simple silk gown. The woman had a serene and beautiful face. She wore her golden hair like a crown. In her arms she held a baby that was swaddled in heavy looking silk. There was just a peek of soft golden curls like her mother's. The prince knew that a painting so large and detailed could only be commissioned by royalty. He considered the baby for another moment and wondered about the master of the castle.

He took his eyes from the walls and looked around the study. The room reminded him of where he would receive lessons from his tutor when he still lived in the palace. There would always be a small collection of books on the subject of letters, law and history reserved in a private classroom like this. He went over to the nearest bookcase and searched for history books. He finally found a book that recorded the royal family history of the castle.

The castle belonged to a small kingdom and it was once known as the land of Eastend. It was so small, it didn't really have its own name. It rather identified itself as the bit of land to the east of the larger kingdom of Gotham. The prince couldn't understand why he had never heard of it. He was well informed on all of Gotham's neighboring kingdoms. If it had existed long before it had become such a forgotten ruin, he could only assume it was another effect of the castle's enchantment. Somehow, all memory of this small kingdom was wiped from people's minds until it no longer existed on record.

The most recent ruler of the land was a king of Italian lineage. He was known to his subjects as King Falcone and he ruled his small kingdom with precise authority. Though he was feared by his people, he was deeply respected by them as well. The prince scanned the pages for the most recent historical accounts. The only account of note was the story of the king and how he met and fell in love his wife. It almost read like a fairytale. King Falcone had been riding through the woods and happened to seek shelter in a cottage inhabited by a beautiful woman known simply as "Maria". Maria was just a peasant that lived on the outskirts of a tiny village. He was so captivated by her charm and natural beauty that he began to pay her visits regularly. Eventually he proposed marriage. His people protested the match, and the king's own advisers tried to persuade their ruler that their union would be criminal. There was even a rumor that the woman was already with child before she had met the king. But the king claimed the unborn child as his own. He wanted to marry Maria legitimately, regardless of her humble origins. So by his own iron will, he was able to overturn the law. They were both married without impediment. His people knew better than to challenge their king, so they came to accept their new queen and the heir she would give birth to.

Alas, the king was struck with a fatal illness not long after he was married and suddenly died. There was no more account of what happened to the queen, her baby or the kingdom after that.

The prince searched but there were no other books that contained any accounts of recent history. He abandoned the study room and decided to explore the wing further. He had turned a corner and stopped when he saw what stood at the end of the west wing.

He seemed to freeze in the light of an eerie red glow. It pulsed from an earthy red to an almost copper hue. It reminded him of the color of dried blood. As he moved closer, he saw that the glow emanated from inside a dome shaped glass case. When he was close enough, he could see that the glass case contained a single red rose.

The rose had no vase or pedestal. It was simply suspended in air within the glass. The bottom of the case was littered with wilted petals. By pure instinct, the prince simply knew this was the source of the castle's enchantment. He reached out his hand to touch the glass. Before his fingertips could meet the cool surface, he felt an invisible force blast his hand back like an electric shock. The prince blinked and took a step back. His fingers were slightly burned. He lowered his gaze to the floor and felt his blood run cold.

A large image of a demon appeared at his feet. It looked like it was burned right into the stone. Its face contorted in mad laughter. It was a mark of something evil, and an unmistakable sign of a curse.

The image began to evaporate. Before he could watch it disappear completely, there was a loud crack and then he was choking. Something leathery and thick wrapped around his neck.

"So this is what you've been scheming all along? You waited for me to get careless so you could come in here and ransack through my life?!"

The master tightened her grip on his throat. The glass eyes of her mask reflected the angry red glow of the rose.

The prince struggled to breath and tried to ease the grip of leather. "No-you're wrong!-I was just trying to learn more about this place-!"

She jerked him forward until his face was inches from the dagger she held up in her hands.

"I told you what would happen if you ever set foot in here."

The prince strained against her grip. He stared straight into her mask and said, "You're a prisoner here, aren't you? This whole castle is under some sort of curse."

She brought the tip of the dagger right up to his jugular, "So what if it is? It's none of your damn business."

He tried to keep his voice clear "I can help you."

The master of the castle actually laughed, but it was a scornful one, "Do I look like some kind of damsel in distress to you? I don't need help from anyone. Least of all _you_."

She drew his face even closer so he could hear every single drip of menace in her tone, "You've been nothing but trouble since you got here. I've had enough."

She smacked him hard across the face with the dagger's hilt. The prince lost his balance and stumbled backwards.

"I want you out of this castle."

They stood looking at each other for a fierce moment. Then the prince removed the whip from his neck and walked out without another word.

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The prince saddled Grayson and secured his sword in its sheath. He mounted his horse and looked up at the tall forbidding edifice once more before galloping out the gates. It was dark and much colder than he ever felt that night. The moon was mostly hidden by clouds. It was a dangerous night for traveling.

The prince knew it would have been wiser to turn back for shelter and wait for daylight. He had the presence of mind to slow down Grayson so they could travel more cautiously in the dark. But he didn't particularly want to stop moving just then. He was angry and he wasn't exactly sure why. If anything, he should be relieved that he was going home, back to Alfred and Gotham. He rubbed the side of his face and knew that it would probably bruise. The strike had hurt and it still felt fresh, but it wasn't the pain that was bothering him.

He did his best to help Grayson navigate his way through the dark. As they trudged deeper into the forest, the trees grew more clustered. It became harder to see past his own nose. He could only stare at the darkness and he felt it stare right back. Suddenly, his senses prickled and he knew they were being watched.

He heard a low growl behind him before a wolf bayed a call for a hunt. The prince didn't stop to think. He kicked and shouted for Grayson to run. He kept low in order to duck the low branches they flew past. Grayson did his best to maintain rapid speed but there were too many obstacles to dodge. He heard the pack gaining on them, chomping at Grayson's flanks. Finally, the prince spied a clearing and calculated that it had space enough for them to change direction. As they burst through, before he could get his horse to turn, he felt one of the wolves pounce on Grayson's back. He drew his sword on reflex but the wolf dodged his strike. He halted Grayson, turned and counted five wolves flanking them from all sides. He realized the pack had backed them into a corner.

The one that had pounced was back on the ground and made a move to jump for Grayson's throat. Grayson reared back. The prince was caught off guard and lost his grip on the reins. He was thrown off right into the snow. When he hit the ground, he felt himself let go of his sword.

He got up quickly to reach for his lost sword, but one of the wolves jumped in his way. They were all barking and baring their fangs now, knowing that the kill was close. The prince grabbed the closest weapon he could find and swung the fallen tree branch to get them to back away. Grayson was still in a panic behind him. The prince wouldn't be able to mount him again if he couldn't keep still. He focused on their predators. One or two of them would definitely try to pounce again. They all stayed wary, afraid of being struck by the horse's hooves in its panic.

One pack member boldly jumped towards the prince. He swung the branch and got it square on the side of its snout. It fell back with a whimper, but it recovered quickly. He could see two of them now, getting ready to make a joint strike. He kept his eye on his sword. He was probably going to end up with a few open wounds before he could get to it. He swung his branch back and braced himself for the attack.

One wolf barked before he heard something sing through the air. An arrow embedded itself right into the eye of the wolf closest to him. The master of the castle rushed into the clearing on her mount, brandishing her crossbow. She fired two more shots at the pack and managed to pierce one in the leg and graze another one in the face. Before she could reload, one wolf made a mad leap at this new horse and rider. The master raised her arm in time and used the crossbow to block its powerful jaws from sinking into her skin. Now the wolf held her weapon firmly in its teeth. She pushed it away and had to let the crossbow go.

She pulled out her whip, and cracked it. She shouted at the remaining pack to get back.

One of the wolves had a touch of madness about it and made a grab for the end of her whip. It launched itself straight for the cat o' nine tails and held it firmly in its jaws. The master must have been surprised by this, because she lost her grip. The wolf was able to wrench it away from her in an instant. Now the master was weaponless. The wolves began to converge on her. One of the three leaped, but her old mount, Slam reared up and cracked it right in the face with his bulky hooves. It plopped back on to the snow and stayed down. The last two were not dissuaded by their fallen comrade. They growled and prepared to make a joint strike at the horse.

A growl and whine died in the wolf's throat when the prince rammed his sword into its back. He bore down with all his weight until the creature was completely skewered. He felt it go still. He glanced up to see the last hunter in the pack turn its full attention towards him. The prince struggled to free his weapon when the wolf leaped at him. It would have torn his throat out if the master had not jumped off her mount and thrust the wolf off course with the full weight of her body. The impact sent the girl and creature tumbling through the snow. The wolf wasted no time scrambling over her. The wolf was lost to complete bloodlust. It tried to bite any part of its her flesh in a frenzy of claws and teeth. The master tried to hold its crazed head back with her own bare hands, but the monster was just too much. Its frantic claws were slicing up her arms. She finally gave out and it bit her violently on the shoulder.

She screamed in agony. But the pain did not paralyze her. With an arm now free, in one fluid motion she produced a dagger and stabbed the wolf in its skull. Blood gushed out of its head and splattered all over her face, but she kept her hand on the hilt and waited until she could feel the life leave the beast on top of her.

The prince had watched all this in horror. It was over in seconds but he felt like he had been frozen. He abandoned his sword and ran to the lady's side. Her shoulder was bleeding profusely and the wolf's jaws held firm even in death. He looked at her trying to bite back crying out from the pain when he realized that she had lost her mask. He was seeing her for the first time. The first thing he thought was that she resembled the woman in the painting.

Her voice was tight when she managed to speak to him, "Get this thing off me."

The prince tried to keep his own voice steady and calm, "I need to pry the jaws apart. It's going to hurt."

She closed her eyes and set her teeth. "Do it."

As he pried the jaws loose, she gripped his shoulder with her one free arm. He heard her choke back a scream. He quickly ripped up a large piece of his sleeve and applied pressure on the wounds. He took the hand clinging to him and placed it over the cloth, "Keep it there until the bleeding stops. I'm going to carry you to my horse." She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. He braced her injured arm with one hand and lifted her as carefully as he could manage. As soon as she was settled, he removed his cloak and draped it over her. When she seemed steady, he left her only for a moment so he could go over to Slam, and tie his reins to the back of Grayson's saddle. He secured the lady's feet into the stirrups before he swung up to sit behind her.

Without thinking, he murmured into her ear, "I'm taking you home."

Grayson moved forward and then she was leaning against him. He held her securely until they reached the castle.

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He finished the last stitch on the back of her shoulder before covering up the whole wound with a bandage. She had her back turned towards him with most of the upper part of her dress cut away. Her skirt lay in tatters on the floor and the rest of her dress was mostly bloody strips on a table next to her bed. She had jerked at every stitch he pulled, but she never complained or cried out. He had offered to fetch her some kind of sedative before he started, but she refused. She just wanted the process over and done with. He was relieved that the castle was well stocked in medical supplies. He was able to properly clean the wounds before closing them up.

"It's done. You can lie back down now."

She turned her head a bit, her face looking slightly redder in the candlelight, "Hand me my robe first."

"Oh yes, of course." The prince got up a little too quickly and tripped on his chair before he found her robe hanging by the doorway. They were both in her bedchamber. He had carried her there as soon as they arrived back and tended to her wounds immediately.

He kept his eyes averted as he helped her slip on her robe on over her bandages. She then settled down carefully onto her bed. Her face winced from the pain.

The prince got up to clean his bloodstained hands in a basin of warm water he had prepared earlier. There was a bottle of spirits next to it, which he had used to disinfect his hands. As he washed, He thought to himself that she was quite lucky she didn't lose too much blood when he got the bleeding to stop. He tried not to think about how the situation could have turned out much worse. He returned to sit by her side and saw that she had closed her eyes from exhaustion. But he noted from her breathing that she was still awake. He had taken care of the wound as best as he possibly could, but he would have to monitor her to make sure no infection would set and she didn't develop a fever.

He sat in tired silence for a while. While she was still awake, the prince knew he had to say something, but he didn't know how to begin.

"That was…a very brave thing you did."

The lady in bed opened her eyes slowly and simply gave him a look. The prince scrambled, realizing he had said something quite useless.

She didn't wait for him to say something else. She closed her eyes again, this time with an annoyed expression. "I didn't think you'd actually be stupid enough to go into the woods in the middle of the night."

The prince clasped and unclasped his hands, not knowing how to respond. He wasn't sure if he could even explain his actions that night to himself.

He could only think of the things he needed to say and said them, "Thank you for coming after me when you did. I-I'm sorry you got hurt."

She rolled her eyes and shot him a look of disdain, "Hmph, none of this would have happened if you hadn't stuck your nose where it didn't belong."

"You're right," the prince said, "I should have just been honest with you."

The lady only grunted at his candid response. She turned her head away as she said, "You can leave in the morning when it's safer to travel."

The prince found himself out of his chair, "There's no way I can leave you like this. You need to rest and keep your wounds clean. I have to stay at least until you've fully recovered."

She held up a hand weakly to wave this protest away "I told you I don't need your help. I'll be fine on my own." She tried to get up to emphasize her point but she yelped back in pain.

He caught her one of her hands and steadied her until she could lie back down. He held on to it as he said, "Please, my lady. Let me help you."

The young lady stared at him before quickly taking her hand back. She settled back down in resignation. "Fine. You can stay. This is all your fault anyway."

The prince exhaled in relief. "Thank you." He sat back down and suddenly remembered something.

"Oh. I was able to grab this before we returned to the castle. I'm not sure if it can be repaired, but I thought it might have some kind of sentimental value."

He set down her mask beside her. It had broken during the struggle. The glass eyes had shattered and it looked ready to fall apart.

The young lady looked at it for a moment and said, "Forget it. I can always get a new one."

She turned her gaze elsewhere. The prince considered the mask for much longer. They had resumed their silence when the prince found himself saying, "May I ask, why did you wear it?"

She glanced at him, surprised by such a straightforward question. Maybe it was the pain and the weariness from the day, but she didn't have the strength to be secretive at that moment.

Quite simply, she replied, "Just to be something else. To escape."

The prince looked at the mask. He thought of his own life filled with disguises and other identities.

He nodded and said softly, "I think I can understand that."

The two locked eyes, until she glanced away first. "You're a really strange kid", she told him.

The prince smiled and got up quietly, "I should go and let you get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later. Please sleep well, my lady."

The lady was silent as he turned to leave.

"My name is Selina."

The prince looked back in surprise.

She didn't meet his eyes. She spoke to him in a very practical voice, "Just call me Selina. To be honest, I never liked being called anything else."

The prince turned to face her fully. "Alright then."

He took a step closer to her and gave her a slight bow, "My name is Bruce."

Selina did meet Bruce's eyes then.

He smiled at her and said, "It's good to meet you, Selina."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Selina needed to stay in bed for at least two weeks. She didn't enjoy being bedridden, but she really had no choice. She didn't get sick from her wounds but her body needed time to heal properly. Bruce tried to help her whenever her injury made things difficult, but she would always insist that she could handle things herself even when she couldn't. Bruce met her stubbornness with sensibility. He persuaded her to rely on him if she wanted to heal fast enough so that she wouldn't need his help anymore. This logic annoyed her, but she begrudgingly had to agree. Thus, they learned to cooperate.

After some time, she could get out of bed and stay on her feet for longer stretches of time around the castle. Her shoulder was still healing and she had to keep the injured arm in a sling. She couldn't engage in any strenuous activity so she was confined indoors. She couldn't occupy herself with her usual lively interests. Selina would have been truly miserable if she hadn't found a new way to keep herself entertained.

"A liiitle more to the left."

Bruce grunted and strained to inch the corner of the painting with his fingertips as instructed. He was on the edge of a balcony on the second floor staircase. While one arm was gripping the banister, his other arm was stretched out to nudge the frame of a large painting. There was nothing but a long drop and a stone floor below him. Selina had taken it upon herself to "supervise" Bruce over certain chores around the castle. She told him that since he had chosen to remain there, he was still technically her servant. Bruce was fine with indulging her if it kept her from straining her injuries, although he hadn't realized what it would take to keep her entertained.

"Hm, you know what? It was fine before. You're gonna have to climb the other balcony and push it back."

Bruce sighed, almost wishing he was back outside in the snow trying to build another stone bridge. Selina gave him a wide devilish grin from below.

Next, he found himself on an incredibly tall ladder. He was struggling to keep it steady as he dusted a chandelier for cobwebs. The ladder was used specifically to reach the high ceilings of the castle, but it was old and it creaked under his weight. In a corner, Selina fanned herself lazily on a chaise lounge and watched his progress.

"Careful not to drop that duster," she called up to him.

Not long after that, he was high up on one of the castle's walls. He was precariously trying to brush mold off of a gargoyle's mouth. The only thing keeping him from falling to his death was a leather harness he had fashioned himself. It was attached to a rope tied to his waist. The other end was fixed securely on a turret's edge. He struggled to keep his feet planted on the crumbling stone facade, which was also slippery from frost. He tried to ignore the cold winds, and the dull cramp in his legs as he scrubbed. He looked to his right and counted about five more gargoyles with a bad case of dental mold. Selina had told Bruce she always felt sorry for them seeing them outside her window. She tasked him to give them some basic oral hygiene.

Selina watched from a window, looking quite impressed. "Wow you're actually pretty good at this one. Have you done this before?"

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Unfortunately, Selina seemed to reach the peak of boredom when he suggested that she should try reading some books.

She was back in bed. Her cat was curled up next to her. She should have been resting, but she couldn't sit still as usual. She made a face when Bruce brought out a book.

"Uggghh. Please, anything but that. Sorry, but those things never did anything but put me to sleep," Selina whined.

Bruce felt personally offended by this, "I'm sorry you feel that way, but the right book can be very interesting."

Selina eyed the book he held in his hands. "Fine, what's that one then?"

Bruce hesitated, "…Shakespeare."

Selina sank back against her pillow, already worn out, "Bleagh. No, thanks. Instant brain death."

Bruce shut his book, giving up on the idea. He was still indignant.

"Well, even if you don't like Shakespeare, there are plenty of books that could interest you." He thought about his collection of books in the cave, "Unfortunately, this book was all I happened to have when I arrived here."

Suddenly, Selina started to get out of bed. She was careful not to disturb her cat. She said, "Alright let's go."

"Go where?" Bruce asked as he got up to help her. To her credit, she took his offered hand without protest.

"To see if you can really find me a book I'll like."

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They had gone downstairs. Selina led Bruce to two doors at the end of a long hallway. He had passed by these doors many times, but they were one of the many rooms in the castle that were magically locked. They unlocked and opened immediately at Selina's approach. She walked in without pause, but Bruce stopped in his tracks and felt all his breath leave his body.

Books filled his view. The whole room was twice as large as the great hall and took up over two stories in height. Every wall was lined with rows of bookcases from end to end, filling every corner of the space. It's how he would imagine a room would look like if it contained every kind of book in existence. Even the palace at Gotham didn't have such an extensive library. Most books were cloistered by academics in their own estates. Bruce had never seen so many books in one place in his entire life.

Selina surveyed it all. "Never had much use for this place. Maybe you will."

She turned and realized that Bruce hadn't moved or blinked since he set foot in the room. She went over to him slowly and waved a hand over his face. He continued to stare in awe at the horde.

"Oh boy," she said.

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The next minute, Bruce was freely scaling ladders up to the top most shelves. He was selecting books from each shelf and bringing them back down with him. He was piling books on top of books in a growing heap. Selina simply watched, fascinated. Bruce was normally quite composed and restrained but now he looked possessed. He didn't show any signs of slowing down for almost an hour. She smiled to herself as he tried to balance a tower of books while descending a ladder.

Bruce eventually came back down to her with a smaller selection of books. He set them down a table where Selina waited. He was a bit short of breath, and he seemed to have finally snapped out of his reverie. As he caught his breath, he told her, "This library…is amazing."

Selina coughed behind her hand to hide a laugh. "You know, I was thinking," she began, "if you love this all so much, you can have it."

Bruce froze in mid-flip of a page. He looked right at her and only hesitated for a moment before saying, "No, I couldn't possibly accept that."

Selina snorted. "Well, obviously you're gonna have a hard time getting it all home. But I mean it. It's all yours. Do what you want with the lot." She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder like the subject was settled. Selina began to casually leaf through some of the books he had brought down. Bruce continued to stare at her. He was trying to think of a way to keep rejecting her without seeming impolite or insincere.

He couldn't think, so he eventually said, "Thank you."

She smirked and got down to business, "Right. So which of these do you think won't bore me to death?"

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Both of them strolled around the castle grounds as Bruce read out loud a passage from his recommended book. He made sure to select something that Selina would find appealing. She asked him to read her a passage first before she gave it a try.

" _…I do not ever remember to have trembled at a tale of superstition, or to have feared the apparition of a spirit. Darkness had no effect upon my fancy; and a churchyard was to me merely the receptacle of bodies deprived of life, which, from being the seat of beauty and strength, had become food for the worm. Now I was led to examine the cause and progress of this decay, and forced to spend days and nights in vaults and charnel-houses. My attention was fixed upon every object the most insupportable to the delicacy of the human feelings. I saw how the fine form of man was degraded and wasted; I beheld the corruption of death succeed to the blooming cheek of life; I saw how the worm inherited the wonders of the eye and brain_."

Selina didn't look at him as he read but he could tell she was listening intently.

"Hmm. I guess it's not bad. Who did you say wrote it?"

"Mary Shelley. This is one of my favorite books actually. She wrote it when she wasn't much older than us."

Selina nodded in approval, "Well, it sounds more exciting than Shakespeare, at least." Selina coughed, "You can keep reading if you want to."

Bruce smiled and read on.

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In time, Selina no longer needed a sling and all aches and pains had subsided from her wounds. With careful and steady exercise, her injured side returned to its full health and flexibility. Bruce wanted her to continue to take things easy. Of course she decided to do the exact opposite.

"Come on, it's just a little light sparring. I promise I'll go easy on you," Selina cracked her knuckles and proceeded to do some stretching exercises.

She had told him to meet her in the ballroom that afternoon. It was another room in the castle that had remained locked until then. Most of the chandeliers were still covered up, and everything inside was layered with dust and cobwebs. Selina had used chalk to draw a large circle in the center of the room. She waited for Bruce to step inside and join her.

Bruce definitely had no intention of agreeing to this, no matter what she said or did.

He tried to reason with her, "You _just_ recovered from your injuries. Something like this could be dangerous."

"Don't be silly, I feel good as new. Come on, either you fight me or I'll send you to go clear out all the rats from the dungeon."

Bruce sighed as she started to hop around. She was limbering up.

"I'd rather deal with the rats, to be honest. This isn't a good idea."

She shot him a look of disdain, "What? You don't want to fight me because I'm some poor defenseless girl?"

At this point, Bruce knew there was no way he was getting out of this.

She took a fighting stance. "You'd be surprised what princesses are into."

He took some tentative steps inside the circle, only so that he could plead with her further. "Selina, please, do we really have to-?"

"Too late!" She bounded off the stone floor. She took one quick step before she threw a kick right at his head. Bruce's training kicked in just in time to block it before he could receive the full impact. He pushed her entire leg away and sidestepped. His body instinctively took a fighting stance before he realized it. Selina twirled away at his push and quickly returned to her default neutral stance. She smiled at him, deciding that he was accepting her challenge.

Before he could rescind his actions, Selina launched herself at him again. This time she tried to send two kicks to his head. He blocked them both. Selina swiftly gave a roundhouse kick, targeting his mid-section. Bruce was able to jump back and block it just in time.

Selina started to get annoyed. All Bruce would do was block her. He was making no attempt to strike her back. He wasn't taking her seriously as an opponent.

She took a step back and ran at Bruce in full speed. Bruce thought she would try another combination of kicks, but she didn't stop to anticipate a kick. Instead, she sprinted right up to him and jumped from far enough to grab him by the scruff of his shirt with both hands. Before he knew it, she forced herself to fall backwards and he fell along with her. In mid-fall she raised her legs over his head and sandwiched his arm. By the time they hit the floor, she had pinned him down with a leg over his neck. She was gripping his wrist and she braced his arm, threatening to break it.

Bruce strained to escape, but she only tightened her hold over his neck and arm. Suddenly, it occurred to him that since they were sparring, he had to make a formal submission. With his free arm he tapped the stone floor twice. Immediately, she released him.

Selina and Bruce got back on their feet. They were both out of breath, but they got up wordlessly and took opposite sides of the ring. They faced each other again in respective stances.

She waited for him to make the first move this time. Bruce took his time to think. He was impressed. Clearly, she had trained herself to fight people taller and heavier than her. She knew how to use his own weight and flow of movements against him. He had to be careful not to give her another chance to do that.

There was nothing to signal another round, but they both moved at the same time. Selina saw him draw his arm back to throw a punch and she ducked just in time. She flashed a grin just before he spun around to make a back kick. Selina sidestepped the kick and parried it aside with an open palm. As Bruce was still redirecting his balance, she whirled around and launched a heel at his head. Bruce sidestepped into a crouch and blocked it with arms crossed over his face. He suddenly forced her leg upwards, hoping to throw her off balance, but she followed the momentum instead and did a back handspring.

Selina landed nimbly back into a fighting stance and wasted no time retaliating. She sprung towards him and gave him a combination of a roundhouse and side kick. Bruce dodged the first and blocked the second. Instantly, she made contact and grabbed him by the torso and caught his wrist. He knew she was going to try and flip him again. Bruce went with the flow and they rolled forward, synchronized. He knew what her next move would be so he did it first. By the end of their tumble, Bruce was the one holding her wrist, bracing her arm behind her. Selina was pinned down on her back. He held her firmly. He was silently glad that he ended up locking the side of her body that hadn't been seriously injured.

Selina did her best to escape the hold but eventually she yielded with a grunt and said, "Damn." She tapped the floor with her free hand. Bruce released his grip and helped her up. She massaged her shoulder, giving him a wry smile. "I guess you've got some moves of your own."

"You're very good," he told her.

"Hmph." Selina accepted the praise. "The next round's gonna be mine though."

Bruce returned her smile. "We'll see about that."

Several rounds later, both of them were collapsed on the floor, out of breath and exhausted.

"I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead. Let's call it even for today," Selina said from her sprawled pose.

Bruce chuckled between breaths and said, "Fine, it's a draw."

Selina propped herself up with both arms. Bruce was surprised to see her expression. She had the most carefree and gratified smile he had ever seen on her face.

"That was _so_ fun!" she said before sliding back on the floor.

Bruce realized he was laughing.

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Though her injuries were healed and she could resume her active lifestyle outdoors, Selina grew accustomed to indoor habits. She no longer felt the need to rush outside and fill her days with whatever thrill she could find. She had learned to spend her time slowly. Sometimes, she would wander around the castle and reopen some more locked rooms. She had actually explored the library for herself and spent a considerable amount of her time discovering a few more interesting books.

Bruce had also lost a bit of his restlessness. He was still worried about Alfred and his kingdom, but he found himself feeling content. The two returned to their own routines. Bruce kept up his chores around the castle and Selina engaged her own interests as always, but something had changed between them. The main thing was that he and Selina no longer made it a point to avoid interacting. Small things made an enormous difference in their days. Sometimes, it was the simple gesture of greeting each other in the mornings. Some days, they would enjoy a meal together in the kitchen.

Something continued to trouble him though. He was still curious about the mysterious rose he had seen in the west wing. The demonic smile that burned on the stone floor never left his thoughts or nightmares. Out of respect and some remorse on his part, he initially avoided the subject with Selina. As more time passed, it returned to niggle at the back of his brain. He knew he still had to learn more about Selina, but this time, he would simply ask her.

Bruce found her in the garden one afternoon. It had snowed heavily the night before, and everything was veiled in fresh snowfall.

She seemed only mildly engrossed by the book she held. One hand cupped her chin, and she had on a quizzical expression. He peeked at the title on the volume and smiled.

"Romeo and Juliet. That's interesting," he remarked as he approached the stone bench she sat on.

Selina snapped the book shut. She tried to look indifferent, "Just a little change of pace. Still don't get Shakespeare though."

"Alright," Bruce said amiably as he took a seat next to her.

Selina moved slightly to make room, but she kept her focus on the book. "Can't really get past the whole premise though. I mean, love at first sight? Does that really happen?"

"I don't know," Bruce leaned forward and considered the volume in her hands, "My father said it happened to him when he met my mother. He said it was like being struck by lightning. He just knew she was the one." He smiled at the memory. "But then my mother would say that she needed more time before she could be sure."

Selina watched him stare into his palms. It was the first time Bruce mentioned his family to her like that. She closed her book and set it down beside her.

"The night you arrived, I think you said that your parents were dead."

Bruce focused on the blankness of the snow. "Yes. They were murdered."

His memories darkened. "I saw it happen. It was a thin knife in the dark. I couldn't move." He still had nightmares of it every night. He would watch the killer utterly frozen, unable to cry out and make the nightmare stop. When he was younger, he would often scream in his sleep in order to wake himself up. He eventually taught himself never to fall asleep for too long or too deeply.

"I'm sorry," Selina told him.

They sat in silence. Bruce had never spoken about his parents like this with anyone besides Alfred. He found himself telling her more.

"My mother and father were the king and queen of Gotham. They were killed by the Duke, Oswald Cobblepot, so he could steal the throne. I was able to escape the night he took power. Alfred saved me." He stared at the darkness in the trees beyond. "I made a promise to my parents that one day I would return. I'm going to take back Gotham and make him pay for what he did."

Selina heard the edge in his voice.

She followed his gaze to the darkness beyond. "You want to kill him, then? For what he did to them?"

Bruce looked at her. He didn't expect the question, but it was like she had read his mind.

As he grew more adept at fighting and mastering various weapons, Alfred had let him make his own mind up about the question of taking a life. He had told him stories of his life as a soldier. He had killed many men in battle. It was always a savage and evil act, but it was necessary. But Alfred warned him that with every kill, the next one became easier and no matter what kind of man he was, the kind of impulse was a dangerous thing. Bruce then came to the conclusion that all killing was the same if it was employed as a means to an end. Whatever good intentions he might have, he would be no different from the criminal and corrupt if he meted out justice the same way they did to get what they wanted. Bruce thus trained to become a warrior, but he trained in the way that would keep him from ever resorting to murder, even in self-defense.

But the question of seeking revenge on his parent's killer was another matter completely. He had probably imagined every possible way of torturing and killing Oswald when he finally got his chance. He could never say for certain what he would do when he could finally make him answer for his crimes.

Bruce said nothing. In his silence, Selina crunched the snow thoughtfully beneath her feet.

"Well, that's your business. Maybe you'll find out one day."

Suddenly she took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

"So you're a prince, huh?" Her thoughtful gaze became a sly look, which she directed towards him, "Why am I not surprised?"

"I mean it explains a lot," she continued, "the hero-complex, plus the fact that you blundered you way into an enchanted castle." She leaned against her palm with an ironic look. "And you found a princess under a curse. God, the story's not even original."

Bruce was still troubled by his thoughts, but he was glad that she had shifted the tone. It was also the first time she brought up the curse since the night she had caught him in the west wing.

He decided it was time to finally ask her, "Selina…can you tell me about the curse on this castle? I want to know what happened and why you're here."

She didn't respond right away. She got up from her seat and took a few steps away from him. She didn't seem surprised by the question. She knew it would come up again.

"It's a long story. And...I'm probably not the best person to tell it."

She turned her head in his direction, but she didn't meet his eyes. He could see she had on a wry expression, but her eyes were sad. "It's not like I'm the victim. You could say this all happened because of me."

Bruce got up from his seat and stood with her. "Please, Selina. I want to understand."

Selina hesitated, but she saw the look on his face.

She turned away and stayed quiet for a few more moments. Then she took a deep breath and started to tell her story.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

"When my mother had me, she was already crowned queen. She wasn't married to the king for very long before he died. I never knew him, but I think my mother was lonely and miserable without him. She was left to sit on a throne all by herself. She always told me that we were never meant to be royalty. We weren't made for this kind of life. We were the queen and princess, but we would always be outsiders, so my mother and I looked out for each other. As long as we were together, we were happy. But after a while, my mother had less and less time to spend with me. Everyone needed her to step up to more and more responsibilities for the kingdom. She had to be the queen everyone needed her to be.

"One day, she told me we were going to spend an entire day together. I was excited and happy. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been alone with her for a whole day. It was the anniversary of the king's death. To honor the day, she wanted to travel the forest where she once lived. It was where they had first met and fallen in love. She told her retinue she wanted complete privacy. She wanted the whole event to be a secret from the public. No ceremony would follow us leaving the castle, no guards. The day would only belonged to the two of us, the king's family. It was the first time in my life when I wasn't surrounded by so many other people. I couldn't believe that my mother and I could be free from being queen and princess for a day. I could barely sit still as we made our way into the forest by ourselves. When we finally got there, the first thing my mother wanted to do was play hide and seek. She would count to ten and I would hide until she found me.

"I hid somewhere nearby and waited. I stopped hearing her voice after she was done counting. I wanted her to find me right away, but I waited. I waited until my back started to ache, and my legs went numb. I got hungry and scared, but I stayed exactly where I was and never moved. I was still waiting when I heard the guards calling my name, and they found me. It was dark and I must have fallen asleep sometime during the day. They picked me up and asked me questions. By then, I was just cold, hungry and tired. More than anything, I just wanted my mother. I kept calling for her but she never came for me. When they were taking me away, I heard them calling for my mother in the forest. I returned to the castle alone. Weeks and months passed but they never found her. She never returned either. At first, people thought she had been kidnapped. They investigated, but there was no ransom or claim for her disappearance. Next, people thought that maybe she was just assassinated. They scoured the forest but there was no body. Then, rumors began to spread that she had simply run away. It was more likely that she disguised herself and fled to another country. A few people considered that she had died in an accident. Maybe she had fallen in the river and her body had washed away. But I told them that my mother had a fear of drowning. There was no way she would have gone anywhere near a river. It didn't matter what I said. The whole kingdom was too ready to drag her through the mud, calling her a coward who abandoned her kingdom."

"All I knew was that she had left me behind, her own five year old daughter.

"I was suddenly all that the kingdom had left. The king had no other heirs, legitimate or not. They had to make the best of me. They told me I had to represent continuity and stability for them. I was so young and I felt so lost. I told myself that my mother would come back any day. Maybe she was just scared of the people who were angry at her. For a long time, I did whatever they told me to do. I was a good little princess. I thought that if I kept the people happy and the kingdom in order then maybe my mother would come back, and she wouldn't be afraid anymore.

"But I never saw her again. Years passed, and I stopped thinking about her. There was no point in being angry or sad because there was nothing I could do about it, so I learned to just stop caring. I just focused on living my life from one day to the next. Everyday, I breathed, ate, slept and did everything according to what I was expected to do. It made everyone in the kingdom feel secure, and I didn't have to worry about feeling good or bad about anything.

"All the images of my mother had been destroyed when it was decreed that she was banished from ever returning to the kingdom. The last remaining image of her was the family portrait in the west wing. It was saved only because it had the last portrait of the king before he died. Then one night, I found myself standing in front of it. Maybe I just wanted to remember what my mother looked like. When I saw her face again, all these memories from my childhood came back to me. I thought I would be angry again thinking about her, but all I felt were these old feelings of being happy. I suddenly realized that beyond being angry or sad, I couldn't remember the last time I was ever happy. And then I suddenly wasn't sure if I ever could be happy ever again. In that moment, I knew I couldn't be a princess anymore."

Here Selina stopped. He voice tightened as she tried to continue the story.

"Being stuck in this place, there's nothing else to really do but think. It took me some time to admit a few things to myself. I was angry at my mother for leaving me behind, but I was angrier at her for not taking me with her.

"Maybe she was just a coward like everyone said. In the end, she decided her own happiness was more important than anyone else's."

This was the first time Selina had admitted these thoughts out loud. It felt like bloodletting. She finally allowed the words to spill out of her.

"I don't know why my mother ran away, but I knew why _I_ wanted to. I didn't think I would ever be happy again as long as I was a princess in this castle."

Selina kept herself squarely turned away from Bruce. She wasn't crying, but she spoke low to hide the hoarseness in her voice, "It doesn't make any sense, does it? I hated my mother for what she did, but I wanted to do the exact same thing and run away from my life. The last thing I ever wanted was to be someone like her. But it turns out, I wasn't any better. We were exactly the same."

Selina hated the words coming out of her mouth, but they were always there. She went on, "I couldn't abandon everything like my mother did, at least not right away. But I wanted to change. I had to do something to break the order in my life. It didn't have to be harmless or make sense. Maybe I had gone a little crazy, but I didn't want to think about it. I started to do things. I got into the habit of stealing. It was little things at first. I kept doing it until I realized I enjoyed it. Then I got better at it. I learned to pick locks and break into places without sound. I taught myself to see in the dark and become invisible to other people. I was naturally light fingered and heights never bothered me. One night I just put on a mask, snuck out of the palace and stole something from a house in a nearby village. I did it regularly until I became notorious as a "cat thief" among people in the villages nearby. But no one had any idea who I was. They would never imagine that the princess was behind it. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I didn't care. I felt free.

"Even in public, I stopped being the good little princess. I ignored my duties and did whatever I wanted. When people began to notice my bad behavior, they started saying that I was going to disappear any moment, just like my mother. And by that time, they were right. I was done. They could hate me and banish me too. I wanted to leave and never look back. I was just building up the courage to finally go through with it."

Selina waited for Bruce to say something at this point. He didn't.

She continued. "The royal advisers got suspicious. They feared the rumors were true. They already lost a king and queen. There was no way they were giving me a chance to escape. They kept a much closer eye on me. They made sure I was always being spied on and guarded. But they couldn't keep me trapped forever."

Selina stopped again. She wanted to explain what it had been like those final days before she decided to leave everything once and for all.

"Do you know what it was about being a thief that I enjoyed so much? It wasn't the thrill of getting caught or the things I stole. I just loved the feeling of getting away scot free. You know what that means? It means avoiding punishment even though you deserve it. I wanted to get out of this place scot free."

She crossed her arms over herself, as if she he felt a sudden chill. Her voice darkened.

"But before I could, _she_ came."

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She had emerged from a storm of winds on a night of the coldest winter. The old woman had come up to the castle begging for shelter. The castle guards wanted to turn her away, but Selina who happened to overhear the her arrival, ordered them to have her brought inside. The princess received her personally in the throne room. Since it was the middle of the night, most of the castle was fast asleep. The guards that kept watch over the princess were nearby but out of sight. Being the only two people in a large space on a quiet night, the smallest sound between them sent a slight echo through the room. The old woman approached the princess looking bedraggled but grateful. Selina took her cold wrinkled hands into her own and bid her a warm welcome. The little woman produced a single rose and offered it to the princess as the only gift she could give in return for her kindness. Selina graciously accepted it and told her the flower was beautiful.

"What a lovely girl you are. You are the perfect little princess," said the old woman with a toothy grin, "Who would ever believe you would be anything like that spineless mother of yours?"

Selina felt the cold seep into her chest. In a calm voice she responded, "I will forgive that remark, grandmother, but I'll thank you not to speak to me of my mother again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must bid you goodnight. Someone will be along shortly to show you to your rooms." Selina turned to leave.

The old woman suddenly burst into a loud and hysterical cackle. The sound betrayed madness.

 _"I am not so easily dismissed, little girl! Is that all the royal audience I get after I've come all this way to see you? I don't think so."_

At her laugh, the room was plunged into darkness. All the fires in the room died out. The winter winds suddenly burst through the doors. The windows shattered from frost.

Shadows grew out of every corner of the room and clustered around the old woman like living creatures. They climbed up her legs and slithered all over her body until she was shrouded from head to toe. The silhouette of her form was stretched and twisted. Suddenly, the shadows fell away. They were no longer snakelike entities, but soft floating garments adorning a young and beautiful enchantress.

Selina was too distracted by the transformation to realize that there were shadows congregating around her. They felt like hundreds of crawling insects on her skin. They tightened around her legs, arms and neck. She tried to resist, but the coils lengthened and dragged her to her knees. The enchantress stood over her, enjoying her humiliation.

She choked herself trying to keep her head raised. She rasped at the witch angrily, "Who are you?"

The witch stroked Selina's chin affectionately. Selina tried to jerk her head away.

"You could say, your highness, this meeting between us has always been inevitable. I decided to finally introduce myself to you tonight because you would be here today and gone tomorrow, correct?" The witch raised an eyebrow. Selina said nothing.

The witch gave a small laugh. "There's no use keeping secrets from me, child. I've watched over you your entire life. You could say I'm just an old family friend. You see, I knew your mother a long time ago."

Selina spat her reply, "I don't have a mother."

The witch shook her head patiently. "We all have mothers, dear. Love them or hate them, our stories begin in the womb; yours especially. Allow me tell you the part of your story that your mother failed to share with you.

"Many years ago, when she still lived in a poor little village, she came to me, wanting to know for certain if she was with child. I told her she was, and even offered to nip you in the bud, free of charge. But she declined. She went away, having no clue how she was going to feed you both. I thought she was a foolish woman.

"But oh, I was wrong. She proved herself to be quite clever. Shortly, she found her way back to me and asked me to make her a love potion," The witch clapped her hands together in glee, "fit for a king."

Up close, Selina could see her nails were painted blood red. They were digging into her skin as the witch held her firmly.

"The king had chanced upon her in the forest during one of his hunts. He was so charmed by her that he visited her now and then to enjoy her company." She gave Selina a suggestive wink. "Your mother recognized a once in a lifetime opportunity. She sought my help, already wondering what it would cost her to make a deal with _me_. She probably expected to spill some blood or offer her firstborn," the witch licked her teeth as she grinned, "but I admired her gall and ambition. I was intrigued enough to give her what she needed without a price.

"So with just a few drops of magic, your mother attained power, wealth and fame overnight. She restored her virtue as well. She knew the king would also claim you as his offspring whether he believed it or not. The simplicity was oh so elegant."

In a voice growing more hoarse, Selina said to the witch, "If it was so easy, then why didn't you just take it all for yourself? Why help her when you could have bewitched the king and taken the crown just like that?"

The witch ran a hand through Selina's golden curls. Her eyes glinted like icicles. "Oh my dear, how flattering, but I've already had my fair share of kings. It loses its novelty after a while. I've watched many kingdoms crumble under my feet in my time."

Without missing a beat, Selina said, "Wow, you must be ancient."

The witch blasted her with a bolt of lightning she summoned out of thin air. The thunder that followed it drowned out the sound of Selina's scream.

When she collapsed on the floor, the witch made sure she was conscious again before she continued.

"As I was saying, your mother had everything she wanted, including a throne and a man who was utterly devoted to her. Now, in case you were wondering, she didn't ask me to kill her new husband after her title as queen became official. That was just a surprise wedding present from me."

The witch smiled like a viper.

"So now she didn't have to share any of it. She had more that she could have ever dreamed to possess in her whole life. I wanted to watch her positively bask in it all." She spread out her arms and twirled madly around in a circle, her voice echoing through the castle walls.

But her arms suddenly dropped to her sides and the mad glee drained from her tone.

"But what did that silly cow do? She threw it all away." She clawed the air in frustration. "For all her scheming and dreams, she couldn't manage the destiny she had snatched up for herself. Just imagine my disappointment. What an utter waste of my time."

The witch turned back towards Selina and the joy returned in her voice.

"But she had left you behind, so not all was in vain. You girl, I knew you weren't like her. _You_ could wield power. I could see it in you. You have the makings of a true queen. I had much greater expectations for your future, so I watched and waited."

The witch started to walk slowly back towards Selina. "For a while, you looked like you were growing into quite the young and powerful ruler of your own little kingdom. But then, things changed. You started playing the petty thief at night. It was absolutely ridiculous." She shook her head disapprovingly. "You were acting like you didn't want to be a princess anymore. I knew I had to put a stop to that or it wouldn't be long until you followed in your mother's footsteps."

She laughed again and pulled at her own hair like she wanted to tear them out from the roots, "You mortals have truly driven me mad. It's amazing how you waste lives, especially your own. If it weren't so entertaining to watch-", she pulled at her hair some more and her head swayed from side to side. She didn't bother to finish her sentence.

Selina twisted her head so she could address the witch directly, "If were all just dumb idiots to you, then why do you care about any of this? What the hell you want from me?"

The witch grabbed a fistful of Selina's hair and wrenched her head upwards so she could look right into her eyes. The witch's face was positively manic.

"You still don't understand, do you? You are the _princess of a kingdom_. I gave you all of this, little girl. This life was just _handed_ to you on a golden platter before you were even born. Without an inch of magic, you could ask any wretch in this land to kiss your feet and thank you for it. You were simply born to live a life of being worshipped, and _what_ do you decide to do with a life of power and glory? You spit on it."

The witch tightened her grip, Selina felt like she was ripping out her scalp. The mad woman's next words was a seething whisper, "And that insults _me_."

She released head with a force and stood back upright. Selina coughed and gasped until she could breath again. Her neck was burning.

"So I've come here as a concerned godmother to you, my child. You must give up these fanciful notions you have about running away to live another life. The one you have is not something you can carelessly throw away. I can promise you that there will be incredibly _dire consequences_." Her mad jovial tone shifted into a sharp menacing one. She tried to inject a bit of sweetness into her voice as she completed her ultimatum, "I'll go away if you say 'thank you, my lady' and promise me that you will be a good little princess from now on."

Selina was finding it harder to breath and move. She took her time to heave herself against her restraints so she could raise her head to look right up at the witch.

Looking straight into her eyes, she simply said, "No."

The witch's smile became a frozen one that bared all her teeth.

"You stupid, selfish brat."

The cold paralyzed Selina's body. It was worse than any pain she had ever felt. She imagined frost spreading into her lungs. The air grew thinner and it became harder for her to breathe. Her body began to seize and the drumming in her ears began to die down slowly.

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"The last thing I heard before I blacked out was her crazy laugh."

The sky was in twilight. The air had grown much colder since Selina had started telling her story. Without a lamp to light, darkness encroached upon them.

"I woke up alone. Everything was still cold but quiet. The witch and all her dark magic were gone. I grabbed whatever I could to warm myself. My hands were still shaking but I managed to start a fire, and I stayed in front of it until I felt normal again. When I could get back on my feet, I lit a torch and rushed to check if the witch had hurt anyone in the castle. The guards who were supposed to watch me were gone. I ran all around the castle and looked in all the rooms. The beds were still warm but there were no people. Eventually, I realized there was no one left in the castle but me. I went outside and searched the grounds, too, but all I found was my horse and cat in the stables. I tried to ride with them to the nearest village, but no matter what direction I went, I would always end up back in front of the castle. I wasn't an idiot. I knew it was caused by her magic. I gave up trying to leave and went to my rooms in the west wing. I found that the witch had left that rose she had given to me as a gift. You saw it for yourself. I think it's supposed to be the marker of the curse."

Selina looked up at the castle. Even from where she sat, she could see the glow from the rose emanating though the window.

"It took me a while to accept it, but I understood what the witch had done. She not only cursed me to stay trapped in this place forever, but she made everyone else who lived here suffer the same punishment, too. I think everyone who was near or inside the castle was embedded into it somehow. All the objects inside can come alive if I want them to, and the castle will do anything I ask. I've always thought that maybe it was all their life force fueling all the magic in this place. That's how I think the people all still trapped here somewhere." Selina didn't realize how long her fists were balled in anger, "The witch cursed the people here to be my servants forever, but I would never see them. She wanted me to be alone."

Behind her, Bruce hadn't uttered a word. She didn't want to hear what he thought of her at that point. Selina only had a few more details left to explain. "The witch must have made people outside forget about the castle too. No one ever tried to look for it or the people who lived here. From the towers, you could tell the forest was growing thicker and wilder around it. It was like she had buried the place from the rest of the world. As if that wasn't enough, it's always winter here, too." Selina kicked the snow and watched her breath dissipate in front of her. "The strange weather and the wolves were enough to keep people away." Selina smiled wryly to herself, "At least until your friend got lost and you followed him here. I'm sorry I was so heartless when we met. A lot of time had passed here and I had to learn to survive being alone."

She had reached the end of her story. She knew it was time for her to turn around and face Bruce. She didn't want to look him in the eye just yet. So she sat back down next to him making sure there was a lot of space between them. She pulled her cloak closer against the cold.

"There it is. That's my story."

Bruce did not move or give an immediate response.

They sat in silence for some time. Selina examined her feelings. She cringed at the things she had revealed about herself and her mother. She hated touching the old scars from her past. She knew it would be hard for her to admit some things out loud, but she was glad she managed to share the whole story. She let out a long breath and braced herself. She waited for Bruce to speak.

Next to her, she heard him finally say her name. Selina finally looked at him and found a kind face. He did not look at her with contempt or disappointment. There was not a trace of judgment. There was only the concern that never left his eyes since she began her story. He gave her a small reassuring smile and said, "Thank you for telling me."

Selina nodded and felt more tension inside her ebb away.

"Your mother-" Bruce began, but he saw Selina's shoulder's visibly tense. He hesitated from saying anything further. It was definitely a sore subject for Selina. He appreciated what it must have taken for her to confide in him about her particularly. He decided that they didn't need to unpack everything she had told him right at that moment.

He gave another pause, and decided to say to her instead, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

He watched her shoulder's relax slightly. He didn't want to strain her further by discussing her past, so he though it was best to focus on the matter of the curse. His mind began to contemplate all the points in the mystery that remained unexplained.

"I want to know more about that rose. You say it's a marker for the curse. But if it's just a magical symbol, then why is it wilting? Did the witch tell you it would do that? Does that mean something?"

Selina shrugged. "No. She didn't tell me anything about it. I think she mostly just left it here to taunt me."

"But what about the sudden earthquakes in the castle? All the magic disappears when they happen. They have to be indicative of something."

Selina glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She could see his mind was racing with questions. She didn't try to offer any ideas.

"I just don't understand. Magic is unpredictable, but it has rules. She must have at least given you a clue about how to break the spell."

"Why would she? She did everything to make sure I'd be trapped here for the rest of my life. Why would she give me a chance to escape?"

"Because of rules." Bruce didn't like magic but he had made significant study on it. Magic spells had to adhere to certain conditions in order to be executed properly. These conditions included a balance of power. No matter how simple or complicated, every spell had to allow some means for its reversal. For other magical practitioners, this simply meant uncovering a counter spell. For mortals, it meant finding a way to disrupt the conditions of the original spell. "Even if the witch wanted to keep you here forever, all she would have to do is make sure that the way to break the curse was something impossible for you to accomplish. We just have to find out what it is."

Selina sighed. The boy was smart, but he was awfully sure of himself. "She was just some crazy witch, Bruce. No rhyme or reason to why she did anything."

Bruce refused to doubt what he knew. He got up and started to pace in the snow. "There has to be a way to break the spell. That rose is slowly wilting. We don't know what will happen when it eventually 'dies'. There's too much magical control over this place to take all these unknown factors for granted. For instance, those earthquakes could get much worse."

He paused and looked in the direction of the castle. "There's hundreds of books in the library about magical history and lore. If we look through them, maybe we can learn something, and find some way to break the curse."

Selina had to hand it to him. Once his mind was set on a problem, he refused to give up.

She gestured her hand limply towards the library, "Well, be my guest then. We can try to comb through all of them. Pretty sure most of those old books are in latin."

Bruce smiled at her and replied, " _Actiones secundum fidei._ "

Selina rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Now you're just showing off."

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Bruce collected a large pile of books related to magic and immediately began to pore over them. Selina cooperated as well, albeit halfheartedly. Days steadily passed, but there were only more books to look through. They couldn't find any indication that would direct them to understanding more about the curse or how to break or reverse it. Bruce wasn't discouraged. He made camp in the library, barely stepping out from the shelves, taking breaks only to occasionally eat and sleep on top of the books.

While Bruce was occupied with his mission, Selina found herself wandering through the castle instead. There were no more locked doors to be found inside. Telling Bruce about her past had reminded her of the time when the castle was in all its glory. She was sorry at how things had deteriorated. She was the only one left to remember how beautiful it once was.

Then she walked through the forest in circles. She had spent most of her imprisonment outside the castle, trying to feign freedom. She probably knew her way around the woods better than anyone ever would. She could roam through those woods with her eyes closed and never be lost.

She eventually drifted back to her rooms in the west wing. She went through the passage that led to the royal family portrait. She stood looking at it for much longer than she had in years. She moved on and inevitably found herself in front of the enchanted rose under the glass. The glow it emanated had always hurt her eyes. She looked at the numerous dead petals that lay at the base. The rose itself had slowly thinned out over time. As if the magic of the rose had sensed her thoughts, another petal slowly went limp, detached itself from the head of the stem and drifted towards the base where it promptly started to decay. All the candles in the room instantly burned out as she felt the earthquake rock the castle. It was over in a moment. The lights returned and the quake subsided, but Selina could still feel herself shaking.

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It was the very next morning when she found Bruce slumped over a small mountain of books. She started to reach for his shoulder to shake him awake, but then decided to try a different approach.

Selina selected the heaviest book in a pile and slammed it as loudly as she could on the table. Bruce was jolted wide awake.

"WHA-?!-Selina-?" He slumped back against his chair, trying to recover from the shock.

Selina chuckled. "Good morning. How goes the research?"

Bruce rubbed his eyes, fighting back a yawn, "It's…going." He picked up a random book from a pile and tried to read the title with one tired eye, "So far I've confirmed that magic curses are…bad."

Selina had lost track of how long Bruce had been holed up in the library. He had clearly forgone all sleep at some point. She plucked the book from his hand and said, "Okay that's it. I think we both need a break. You especially."

This time she slammed her hand against the table. "You are going to leave this cave and get some rest so you'll be wide awake for tonight."

Bruce was massaging his temples, "What's happening tonight?"

Selina beamed, "Tonight we're going to hold a ball where we can get dressed up, dance and enjoy ourselves."

Bruce's thought process was taking some time to follow what Selina was saying. In the first place, he wasn't used to seeing her look so cheerful and excited.

"You want to...dance?" was what he finally managed to grasp.

"Yes. Living in this place has been nothing but doom and gloom. I say we just throw a party for ourselves and have fun on our own terms."

Bruce felt like he was falling behind on the conversation again. "Selina, we shouldn't be wasting time with-a party. Time is running out, and we still have no idea what to do about the curse."

"Exactly." Her tone became more serious. "Look, I don't know what's going to happen when that flower goes kaput, but whatever it is, I don't want to spend whatever time I have left in some musty old library."

Bruce looked at her. This was the first time he heard her acknowledge the worst-case scenario out loud.

The determined expression on Selina's face softened, "Bruce, please."

It was the way she said his name. He sighed. "Alright, then."

Selina grinned. "Great! Now you get some sleep. I'll go get everything ready for tonight."

And just like that she dashed out of the library, leaving Bruce slightly more awake and baffled.

With just a few words of command, every bit of house-ware and cleaning agent came to life and set to work making every inch of the castle spotless and beautiful. Selina wanted the castle to look the same way it did when it was at its best. Now that she felt particularly motivated, the magic around it was attuned to her will and began to revive the place the way she pictured it. Selina realized this was the first time she had used the castle's magic to the fullest. The whole place seemed to come alive, and it worked hard to return itself to its former glory. The dust disappeared, the dirt was washed away and everything was polished to radiance. Selina was confident that preparations would be ready by evening.

Bruce had actually managed to extricate himself from the library and collapse in a real bed. He felt like he had only managed a short nap when he heard a tapping at his door. He opened it to find that it was quite late in the afternoon and a very animated candelabras was motioning for him to follow it. It led him to a large dressing room in the east wing where several articles of clothing were laid out for him. They were all very formal and quite lavish. He hadn't worn clothes like these since he had lived in the palace as a child. As he tried a few on for size, he felt a tingle of magic ripple through the threads. The fabric suddenly tailored itself to fit him specifically. The colors and fashion changed as well. He wondered perhaps if the magic was reflecting his character or preferences somehow by the way the fit and style changed to suit him. The results left him feeling quite at home with clothes he had never worn before.

Selina was going through a similar process, but she took a more active part in the customization. She tailored a dress to suit her own personal aesthetic. She always found the fashionable gowns of the time to be cumbersome and uncomfortable. She didn't want a dress that required corsets or petticoats. She wanted it to sway and flow with volume but without feeling like she was trying to move in a mass of curtains. Outside, the castle was just about done getting prepared. For one night, she wanted to forget about the winter outside and dress like it was the summertime. She made sure that the castle would be full of light and warmth all night. She wanted her dress to shine with the light and reflect the mood of the evening properly. Selina was satisfied with the results by the time the ball was set to begin.

Bruce could see stars twinkling in the early evening through the clear glass of the windows. After he had been properly attired, he was led to the main stairway that connected the east and west wing. He waited there, assuming that he would escort Selina down into the ballroom. He took his time to admire the castle from where he stood. All the shadows and hidden depths had disappeared. From corner to corner, the stunning interior was fully revealed and lit up. It was hard to believe this was the same castle that looked so sinister when he saw it for the first time. For once, he found himself appreciating the advantages of magic.

Suddenly, he heard the west wing doors opened and Selina emerged. Bruce had to blink several times when she stepped into the light.

 _"Oh, but soft…"_

He immediately heard the sonnet in his head. He didn't have his own words to describe how she looked. She was dressed like the sun. From the neat crown of curls to the soft yellow dress she wore, she was radiant. The fabric of her dress sparkled and shimmered with every subtle movement she made.

Bruce felt like his head was on fire, but he couldn't think.

Selina stopped at the top of the stairs and he realized that he was staring. He knew he had to say something. He heard himself sound a bit flustered as he said, "You look very nice."

"Thanks,"she replied, "You don't look so bad yourself." She seemed to look a bit flushed for a moment in the bright lights. She darted her gaze and cleared her throat, "The shoes hurt a bit though."

She surveyed the room the same way Bruce had and shook her head, "This is kind of silly, isn't it?"

Bruce approached the foot of her staircase and went up a few steps, "I don't think so." He offered her a hand and gave a small bow.

"Shall we?" he asked.

Selina gave a tentative smile. She met him at the bottom of the staircase and took his hand with a small curtsy.

Without another word, Bruce then offered his arm and she accepted. Slowly, they made their way towards the ballroom.

Bruce could hear music start to swell as they approached the doors. They stopped when they crossed the threshold and they were inside the ballroom. A panic suddenly gripped Bruce.

He turned to Selina, and nervously he said, "It just occurred to me-it's been a long time since I've danced. I may not remember how."

To his surprise, Selina laughed, and it wasn't a mocking one. She took his hands in her own and told him, "Just follow my lead, then."

And so they danced.

At first, Selina did indeed lead by doing a step so that Bruce could mirror it. After a while, Bruce would anticipate her next move and match it. As he started to move more smoothly with the rhythm, he began to initiate his own actions. Selina obliged him, and began to match his movements in return. Bruce thought it was very similar to their sparring sessions, but instead of being a competition, it was more of an exchange.

Selina smiled at him when she sensed he was starting to get the hang of things by himself. Bruce smiled back at her in relief, finding that he wasn't as awkward as he thought he'd be. They both became less mindful of the technical aspects and began to lose themselves to the flow and music. They both felt like they were growing lighter with each turn and step.

Bruce thought back to his earliest memories of dancing. It wasn't relevant to his life after he had left the palace. But his fondest memories of his parents and childhood involved dances and grand parties. He remembered how happy they looked as he watched them dance together. His own mother had tried to teach him how to dance. He had stepped on her toes many times but she always laughed it off. They were both happy with the time they were able to spend together. Dances became too a bittersweet memory after he had lost his former life. Yet as he danced with Selina, he was suddenly reminded of how delightful dancing could be.

For Selina, the "parties" that involved dancing in her life always had some agenda behind them. There was always so much ceremony involved, it was barely enjoyable. The events were mainly an excuse for her court to leer and gawk at each other and of course, their princess. Selina knew how much they were judging her every move. She could never breath easily despite the music and merriment around her. She eventually avoided dances until they stopped having those kinds of parties. In the spacious ballroom, with nothing else to focus on but her partner and the music, it was the first time she actually felt like dancing.

The music gradually reached a denouement, and the two arrived the end of their first dance. They were a bit breathless, but they both looked pleased. Selina noticed that they had stopped near exit to the terrace. Without a word, she took Bruce's arm and led him out into the crisp night air. They both watched their breath mist away into the starry sky. The dance and the castle lights had warmed them. Neither of them were bothered by the cold at all. Bruce and Selina stood together for a while, staring up into the night.

Bruce spoke softly, as if he didn't want to disturb the stillness of the moment, "You were right, Selina. I'm glad we did this. I don't remember the last time I've enjoyed myself this much." He leaned against the terrace balcony and turned his attention from the stars to her.

Selina took a seat on the same balcony, "Me neither. Haven't really had much cause to celebrate in a place like this."

Bruce looked up at the warm light that gleamed within the high walls. The music was still softly playing in the background. But looking out into the deserted grounds, it sounded so isolated. He looked back at Selina. "It must have been hard, being by yourself all this time."

Selina shrugged, "Even before the curse, I preferred being by myself." She made herself more comfortable in her seat. "People can be overrated."

Bruce wondered if she truly felt that way. He worried about how long she must have spent being alone to be so content with it, but then, he couldn't say he lived his life any differently. Selina seemed to look thoughtful for a while. Then quietly, without warning, she slipped her hand into his. Her fingers delicately interlaced with his own. She didn't meet his eyes but she gave his hand a soft squeeze.

"You're not so bad though." she said to the air in a whisper.

Her palm felt so light and precarious. Bruce didn't want to say anything in case she decided to let go. Tentatively, he gave her a small squeeze back.

The small warmth they shared became more distinct than the cold that surrounded them.

Selina was the one who decided to speak up again. "Was it hard for you? After your parents died?"

Bruce looked out into the horizon that was only ever snow and trees. Since he had to flee his home, he thought about how he could only ever look at the Gotham palace from a distance. "No, I was lucky. I had Alfred. He was always there for me."

Selina looked into his face and saw the change in his expression, "You're worried about him."

Bruce tried to give her a reassuring smile, "He knows how to take care of himself. I just hope he hasn't done anything reckless since I've been gone."

Selina stared through his expression. She stood up with a sigh. Still holding his hand, she pulled him back towards the terrace exit.

"Come with me," she told him.

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She led him into the west wing, and they entered the passageway that led into the study room. Bruce only briefly glanced at the huge family portrait that dominated the room. Selina let go of Bruce's hand and went to a small cabinet in the corner. She knelt down and opened the bottom drawer. She brought out something covered in ragged looking cloth and unveiled a heavily gilded hand mirror. It looked like it had been unused for a long time. He could see the rust had intermingled with the flaking gold and metal on the back and all over its handle. Selina brought it over for him to inspect. Though the rest of it was in poor condition, the mirror itself remained clear and had not tarnished in any way.

"Another thing that witch left here to taunt me. This is a magic mirror that will show you anything you want to see in the outside world." She handed it to Bruce and he received it carefully, "She probably thought it would torture me to see all the places I'd never be able to go to." Selina crossed her arms and looked at the object with contempt. "She was right, so I just put it away."

Bruce ran his hands over the cool surface. It didn't feel like anything more than an ordinary mirror in his hands.

"Go ahead. Ask it to show you Alfred," Selina said encouragingly.

In a clear voice, he said, "I want to see my friend, Alfred. Please show him to me"

Suddenly the surface glowed the same color as the enchanted rose. Bruce's own reflection disappeared and he could see shadows begin to pool inside the mirror to form new images.

When the image became clear, Bruce felt his veins turn into ice.

"Oh no."

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After he had been dumped beyond the borders of the castle, Alfred found his way to the nearest village and was able to seek shelter in an inn. The inn had a doctor that saw to Alfred's ailments. Besides the wounds from wolf attacks, the doctor was quite mystified when he discovered that was suffering from a cold and fever in the middle of summer. He still helped the man as best he could. He informed Alfred that he needed at least a week of bed rest, but as soon as he could get back on his feet, Alfred found himself a mount and rode right back into the forest. For countless days, he searched for any familiar terrain that could lead him back into the castle, but to no avail. He set camp in the forest and began to draw maps so he could search it more carefully in sections.

He returned to nearby villages now and then for supplies and to consult navigators who could help him. Not a single person he asked knew of some hidden castle in the forest. Alfred didn't care how mad he sounded, he kept making inquiries wherever he went. Unfortunately, his presence caught the attention of King Oswald's spies in one of these villages. Alfred had neglected his disguises so someone had recognized him as the former manservant to the late king and queen.

They followed him into the woods and ambushed him in the cover of darkness. They would have killed him right there, but he was rumored to have escaped with the prince the night the king and queen were murdered. He was immediately taken away to be interrogated at the palace.

The image that had formed before Bruce was the process of that interrogation. Alfred's face was completely battered beyond recognition and he didn't look conscious.

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"Alfred needs my help! I have to go to him!" Bruce heard himself cry out.

"Well duh! Get going already! Don't waste any time!" Selina's shout jolted him out of his own shock.

Instinctively, he made his way for the exit, but he caught himself and turned back to Selina.

"Selina-I promise-I will come back before the rose-!"

"Go!" Selina yelled before he could say another word.

Bruce hesitated and realized he was still holding the mirror in his hands.

"Keep it! Use it save him! Just go!"

Without another word, Bruce turned his heel and he was running into the snow outside. He found Grayson in the stable and saddled him quickly. The moon was high and full. The moonlight would help the young prince navigate his way through the forest.

From her window, Selina watched the boy and his horse disappear into the trees. Behind her, another rose petal fell away and an earthquake immediately shook the world around her. All the warmth and light inside abruptly disappeared, and the castle was plunged back into darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

It was almost jarring how quickly Bruce found his way out of the enchanted forest. He was back in the warm woods and then civilization within a few of hours of riding. The first thing that he noticed when he arrived at his first village was the noise. It slightly unnerved him. He had been so cloistered for so long that he forgot how much noise even a small village could make. Compared to an isolated castle, the quiet life of a little town seemed totally chaotic. But he raced past all of it. He shook off the anxiety and guilt he felt after leaving Selina behind. He had to shut everything else out and focus on the more immediate crisis at hand. Alfred could be dying or worse. He had to get to him as soon as possible. He rode nonstop until the high towers of the Gotham palace came into his view. It had been years since he had seen the palace so close. He knew he had to rescue Alfred, and time was of the essence, but he had to force himself to calm down and think strategically. There was no way he would be able to approach the palace without endangering himself. He made a personal study of the palace security since Oswald took power. Since he took up residence there as the king, Oswald had garnered more enemies than allies as a regent. He guarded his seat of power with an almost irrational kind of vigilance.

Over the years, Oswald set about incorporating every known feature of medieval defense into the palace exterior. The high curtain walls were put up during his first years as a monarch. He basically rebuilt the palace to withstand a siege. He had employed the entire royal army to patrol every inch of the palace grounds around the clock. Bruce could see soldiers stationed in patrol paths up on the battlements. Some of them were armed with crossbows, but any ordinary guard could just as easily drop heavy rocks from built-in gaps on anyone who attempted to scale the walls. He noted several arrow slits along the walls for trained archers to shoot through. He could take a guess at how many bowmen stood nearby, armed and ready for an attack.

Bruce consulted the magic mirror he now possessed. It showed him in complete accuracy how well guarded the entire structure was, both inside and out. He would normally be averse to utilizing magic, but even he could appreciate how useful it was. But he also knew how dangerous it could be in the wrong hands. He had to be careful not to let anyone know of its existence. Using the mirror, he took note of all the details in the palace security.

He knew Alfred had been taken to the dungeons. It was the only place traitors to the crown were taken to be tortured and killed. Grimly, Bruce told himself that if they were still "interrogating" him, then they would at least keep Alfred alive. He used the mirror to map his way towards the dungeons. It sickened the prince to see what Oswald had done to what had once been his home. The palace never had dungeons when he lived there. Criminal inquests were conducted by the provost in lawful institutions. The provosts were trusted to exercise their judicial powers over the guilty and clear the names of the innocent. But there was no such order under Oswald's rule. He employed ruthless people to be extensions of himself. They would be the judge, jury and executioners over anyone who defied or threatened him. Oswald had installed special chambers beneath the palace so he could enjoy prosecuting his enemies personally.

Bruce noted that the way into the dungeons was just as heavily guarded as the walls outside. But within the chambers themselves, only a few "special agents" remained to conduct interrogations. There was hardly any point in having guards inside because the captives were in no condition to escape. He searched for Alfred specifically. The mirror showed him lying in the cramped cell with no light. It was hard to ascertain his condition. As far as he could make out, Alfred had been beaten unconscious.

Bruce felt a vice over his heart. It was clear that there was no way he could rescue Alfred on his own. He contemplated his options. He knew where the rebellion leaders were likely to be gathered that evening. He walked back over to Grayson and searched the secret compartments in his packs. He always kept an extra set of the disguise he used in his spy work. Bruce rode back into the darkness of the woods and began to formulate a plan.

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When the royal family was found murdered in their beds, Duke Oswald was quick to step in and take control when the kingdom was in crisis. He lamented on the tragedy of the king and queen's sudden deaths and vowed that the killer would be brought to justice. He made a good show of outrage and grief for the public eye, but it was clear that he had unequivocally usurped the throne. Despite his feigned innocence, the whole conspiracy was clear to the people of Gotham. It became a public consensus that Oswald had orchestrated everything to steal the throne. There was an uproar throughout the kingdom for him to be tried for murder, but Oswald was not troubled by this in the least. He knew he had the power to suppress any protest to his claim. He had the majority support of the royal guard, which he had supplemented with his personal army of thugs. His coronation was speedily authorized by the royal powers, who had aligned themselves with the new regime. Oswald had spent years garnering the support and influence of the members of royal court who would benefit from his rise to power. They enabled Oswald to buy the loyalties of the royal guard with the promise of more wealth and property under his rule. He blackmailed those who resisted by threatening to imprison their families and seize whatever properties they possessed. With the royal guard under his control, he used their military power to impose his tyranny over the kingdom.

Sir James Gordon was one of the few knights that refused to serve a criminal and a false king. When he wouldn't swear his allegiance to Oswald, his farms were burned down and his home was destroyed. Since then, Sir James became a fugitive with an obsolete title of knighthood. But because of his courage and integrity, he became a hero in the eyes of the people. As soon as the knight disappeared underground, he began building a rebel movement against Oswald. With his leadership, the rebellion grew more and more formidable each day.

There was a popular tavern in the village nearest to the palace frequented by soldiers of Oswald's royal army. Many of these men were employed for their brute strength and depravity. They could be relied upon to carry out any order from their king. Every night, they gathered to carouse and drink in the tavern where the rebellion headquarters was secretly located. It was Sir James's idea to set up his base of operations in that specific location. Other rebels thought he was mad, but to James, it was essentially hiding in plain sight. It was surely the last place anyone would ever conceive of a rebellion was being conducted. Of course, they had to be extremely careful staying invisible as they operated. Everyone who served in the tavern was a spy and agent for the rebellion. They spied on their patrons for useful information and made sure they never suspected what was happening right under their noses. The entire rebel headquarters were a series of basement rooms built underneath the tavern. They were once used as large storage rooms, but now they were thoroughly concealed and closed off from the surface. It was only accessible from hidden passages that lead out into unmarked locations within the nearby woods. All the comings and goings of rebel members were completely unseen. Even with all their precautions, there was still very little chance that the tavern's patrons would notice any strange activity around them. A steady supply of drinks and convivial atmosphere was better than any kind of security they could set up.

Deep under the tavern was one room where James Gordon held clandestine meetings with fellow members. He would meet them there regularly to receive reports and keep track of Oswald's activities throughout Gotham. The rebellion was monitoring and making a record of Oswald's growing web of corruption throughout Gotham. Their main goal was to find way to disrupt his network of crime and exploit any weaknesses they uncovered. James Gordon sat at his desk carefully taking note of the day's reports in a ledger. He had a large map of Gotham spread out along the wall. It had several markers that displayed the scale of Oswald's forces, but it also included a respective index of the rebellion's growing scope of counter-activity. James looked up when he heard a knock at the door. The knock was the secret one used by the rebel members, but the knight laid his hand on a hidden crossbow below his desk before he said, "Enter."

The door opened and a hooded figure in a heavy cloak entered. The figure staggered slightly as it stepped through the entryway. It removed its hood to reveal a bearded face looking too lush for a sober man.

"I'm getting too old for this, Jim. I gotta drink more and more these days to make my men believe I need to get 'lost in the woods' where I can spew my guts out in peace."

James took his finger off the trigger and got up from his desk to greet his friend. "You know the rebellion appreciates your service, Captain Bullock. No one would ever think someone like you would be competent enough to be a spy for the rebellion."

Captain Bullock shook his head, "I'm as reliable as a drunkard, Jim but hey, they still made me a captain. Just goes to show you how it's all gone to the dogs in the royal army since Oswald took over. Some days, I don't know why I let you convince me to stay in that viper's nest."

James patted him encouragingly on the back, "Because you're one of the best assets the rebellion has, Harvey. We'd never have been as effective as we have without your intel."

"Yeah, well, licking Oswald's boots on a daily basis is a small price to pay I guess." Captain Bullock produced a few small handwritten notes and gave them to his friend. "Here are the reports from the palace for the past week. But the big news of the day is some poor wretch got brought into the dungeons two nights ago. Everything about it has been hush-hush. I only just found out about it. Oswald's taken a personal interest in the interrogation. Could be he's just bored, but it could also mean it's a pretty high value subject. I couldn't even find out who the prisoner is, let alone what tell you what he looks like."

A shadow separated itself from a dark patch in the room and said, "The prisoner is Alfred Pennyworth."

Captain Bullock yelped in surprise but James unsheathed his sword in a flash. He had it pointed at the intruder before he could move another inch closer towards them. The figure wore a hood and cloak. The hood obscured most of his face and the figure was making it a point to disguise his voice. Both men realized that this mysterious person somehow managed to enter the room without them realizing it. James had spent most of the evening in the room, but he never noticed his presence. He wondered how long he had been standing there, listening to them.

"Who are you?" Gordon barked. His sword stayed raised and steady. The figure revealed two empty gloved hands to show he held and concealed no weapons.

"I am your ally, Sir James Gordon. We have never met, but we have worked many times together for the same cause. You and your people have called me many names." The voice that spoke was low, gruff and well practiced in hiding any hint of its original tone. It was difficult to tell the age of the speaker, but Gordon deduced from his frame that it was likely to be a young man. There was something about him that made the knight doubt that they were very close in age despite the fact he was taller than the two soldiers in the room.

Gordon and Bullock exchanged a look. "If we've never met then anyone can claim to be "The Bat". What proof do you have?"

The figure kept his arms up as he answered, "Based on the missions you've delegated to me, I can tell you the five exact locations where Oswald has hidden his spare supply of gunpowder. That info is probably more valuable to you than where he accumulates his own personal gold plunder."

The hood kept most of his face obscured, but the knight could swear that figure gave a slight smirk as he continued, "I also know how Oswald produces all his lethal poisons and who creates them, including their antidotes. I know the answer to the riddle that would have saved Lord Hill from his gruesome death. I know the true details that explain the events of the "screaming village massacre". And I know the names and ranks of every member of criminal society, the Court of Owls. They truly were instrumental in Oswald's rise to power."

After a moment's pause, the figure concluded by saying, "I also know the whereabouts of the late king and queen's hidden family fortune."

One by one, he told them the answer to each of these mysteries, except for the last one. When he reached the end of his list, he remained silent and waited for their response.

Captain Bullock gaped and Gordon was floored. It was true that he had assigned some of the missions that the figure just mentioned, but most of his revelations were believed to be urban myths. He would have to confirm the intel, but his gut told him that every word of it was true.

Harvey couldn't help himself. "Where is it then?" he exclaimed, "Where's the lost Wayne family fortune?"

The stranger ignored this question. He lowered his arms now that he was sure they were at least starting to believe him.

"I need you to listen to me. Alfred Pennyworth has been taken prisoner in the palace and he will likely be tortured for information until he dies. I need your help to get him out before it's too late."

Harvey was suddenly contentious again, "That's insane! Any kind of rescue mission at the palace would be suicide!"

The stranger went on, "I know that Alfred is an excellent rebel agent and has been nothing but loyal to the cause. He has been integral to much of your success in the past. He was also a faithful servant of the king and queen of Gotham, just like you, Sir James Gordon. You cannot abandon him to die at the hands of your enemies."

Harvey began to protest again, but Gordon stopped him, "You're right, stranger. Alfred is a good man. One of the best I've ever known. I know that a man like him will never betray the rebellion, but if he is a prisoner at the palace, he's too far gone to hope for a rescue."

Gordon's gaze never wavered, "The rebellion can't afford to sacrifice several of its agents to save one man."

The stranger met his gaze evenly and replied, "I understand you, Sir James. Nevertheless, I am not going to leave him to die. One way or another, I will get him out of the palace alive. But I cannot do it on my own. I came here to ask for your help, not as a rebel leader but as an honorable man who swore an oath to serve the crown and uphold the codes of chivalry." The stranger took several steps towards Gordon until the pointed edge of his sword was level with his own vulnerable neck.

"I have a plan that will ensure the safety of you and your men. Just help me get inside the palace and leave the rest to me."

"Jim, you can't trust this guy! Even if he is The Bat, he's clearly crazy. What do you really know about him? He could be a double agent for Oswald and this is just some kind of trap."

The stranger and the knight continued to eye each other and say nothing. Without blinking, James said, "Harvey, leave us alone for a moment."

"But Jim-!" James Gordon withdrew his sword and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Trust me, Harvey. Just give us a minute."

Harvey stared at Jim to make sure he was being serious. Begrudgingly, he turned and opened the door to leave. Before he left, he turned towards the stranger and said, "You're just lucky I really do need to throw up. I'll be right back."

As soon as Harvey shut the door behind him, Jim turned his attention back to the stranger.

Slowly, he returned his sword back into its sheath. "I've wondered for a long time about your identity 'Bat', and to be honest, you're not what I pictured at all."

He crossed his arms and carefully assessed his guest once more, "The voice, it's very good but you're not doing it to hide your real one, are you? You're actually much younger than you want us to think."

Without any sense of wariness, James turned his back on the intruder. He walked back over to his desk so he could lean against it and give his visitor some space.

"You know, the night of the king and queen's murder, there were rumors that Alfred managed to get the young prince to safety before Oswald could kill him as well. People believed that he kept him alive and hidden all these years. Alfred always just laughed at the stories and called anyone daft for believing in fairytales."

"It was always a mystery why Alfred would never reveal the identity of his agent, not even to me. It's true that a phantom agent had less chances of being tracked down and identified by our enemies, but I knew there was more to it than that." Sir James crossed his arms and considered the figure before him silently.

"I believe that you are who you claim to be, stranger. You have knowledge of highly sensitive information only the rebel intelligence has been able to uncover. But it's interesting that you mentioned the lost Wayne family fortune. Children in Gotham learn about that in bedtime stories. I remember searching for it myself when I pretended to hunt treasure as a child. The legend told of a secret treasure hidden somewhere in the kingdom of Gotham. Its location was said to be handed down through generations of royal families. The treasure was a great fortune that had been amassed silently through the ages. It was kept set aside in case of a great crisis. Kings and queens held the responsibility of using it to aid the kingdom. It had been used in the past to win wars and end famines. There was a time when Oswald actually searched for it during his first year as king. He scoured the palace and the king and queen's personal belongings, but never found anything. Whether or not the legend was true, the secret died with the king and queen…and their son."

Gordon let that last statement hang between them, but the stranger neither moved nor made a sound.

There was shadow of a grin that flashed under the knight's steely gaze, "Maybe you were just exaggerating for effect. Though you don't strike me as the type to make jokes."

As the silence continued, the knight finally sighed and said, "I talk to the rebels about what to expect if they ever faced capture. We all understand the risk but as a knight and their leader, it always went against the code to abandon my brothers in arms. I feel like a hypocrite when I talk about sacrificing for the greater good when I would die fighting for every single one of them."

Gordon toyed thoughtfully with the hilt of his sword. "There hasn't been much value in codes of chivalry in times like these, but I haven't forgotten my oath of fealty to the crown. If the rightful king ever returned and required my service", he paused to look straight into the direction of the stranger's eyes, "then I would wholeheartedly offer my sword-arm and lay down my life." He smiled at the figure who remained nothing but stoic.

"Let's hear your plan then, Bat."

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Harvey returned a while later. First he tried to eavesdrop at the door, but Jim opened it upon his approach. The captain had his sword drawn and looked around the room. The Bat was no longer there. Jim affirmed this by saying, "He's gone." Harvey let out a huge sigh of relief.

"I knew you'd see sense, Jim. I hope you managed to give him a good smack in the head before you sent him packing."

Jim gave him a companionable slap on the shoulder and said, "Actually, we're helping him bust Alfred out of the palace. Tonight."

Harvey took a beat before saying, "Sorry, either my ears aren't working properly or I'm passed out somewhere in the woods and I'm hallucinating all this."

Jim simply gave his befuddled partner a smirk and said, "Come on. We have work to do."

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The changing of the guard happened at midnight. One of the guards due for a relief was stationed on the north wall, which encompassed the drawbridge. He had gotten particularly good a sleeping on his feet. He was quite mastered in the art of seeming alert. The midnight bell was tolling when the new guard came over and nudged him awake before a higher ranking officer could notice. "Heya there, Butch. I see you finally managed to keep the snoring down." The guard named Butch shook himself awake without making any indication that he had been dozing for the last hour of his watch. He smiled at his fellow guardsman and tapped his own nose conspiratorially, "Just takes focus, Gabe. And some good old-fashioned nose plugs." When he spoke, his nose did sound a bit clogged, like he had a cold.

Butch handed over his lance and gave his friend Gabe a mock salute, "Enjoy your exile at the wall, buddy. I've got a tank of beer waiting for me."

Gabe grunted a chuckle, "Better be careful, Butch or they'll promote you."

Butch paused as he was walking away. He grinned and pointed a warning finger at his comrade, "Hey, bite your tongue, pal. I got no problem's being a goon if it means livin' it up in the palace."

Gabe nodded in agreement. He looked over the wall and the drawbridge. It was a fairly uneventful time for watchmen. "Looks like it's gonna be another dull one. Anything interesting happened up front today?" Butch continued to make his exit, "Nah nothing much. Someone sent over a whole wagon full of chickens this morning, but that's it. Have a good one, Gabe."

Butch whistled on his way out. Gabe listened to the whistle disappear down the stairway. For a moment, he thought the whistling had stopped but then it suddenly started up again. It seemed to be getting louder. Gabe cleared his ears to make sure he was really hearing it. He looked over to the stairway and thought that maybe Butch was coming back up.

The crash and resounding boom shook the entire wall. It sent Gabe flying several feet in the air before he crashed on his back. He lay stunned for several minutes. When the ringing in his ears finally stopped, he started to hear the distant chanting.

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The plan required an army but it only had to be a small one. Jim sent out calls to rebel members that were in the vicinity and could assemble as rapidly as he needed them to. They all gathered silently in a nondescript area in the woods. Sir James led them on foot to the warehouse that contained Oswald's most prized weaponry. Thanks to Captain Bullock's intel, the rebellion became aware of its existence, and knew exactly what kind of special weapons were being manufactured there. The rebellion had always planned on sabotaging the operation before they could be engaged, but their current undertaking led to a change of plans.

The warehouse was heavily guarded but Sir James had enough agents with him to take down the security. When he entered the warehouse, all the masons inside were gathered together in one corner. He knew the background of each of the builders. They were innocent victims who had no allegiance to Oswald.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are the rebellion against the false king, Oswald. Tonight we're going to deliver him a heavy blow using the weapons you've built. I know what he and his men have done to force you to create these abominations. You can run away to safety and remain blameless, or you can stay and help us."

Sir James didn't need to finish his spiel. Everyone stepped forward.

There were enough oxen in the nearby stables to help them move what they needed. They moved gradually through the darkness. At their steady pace, they would be able to approach the palace by midnight completely undetected. Jim thought back to the moment the plan was laid out for him. There were several points that made it appealing, but the one that really tickled him was how rich it would be when Oswald realized they were using his own weapons against him.

Once they had reached the right distance, the rebels spread out and took their positions. Jim waited for the midnight bell. As soon as it died, he gave the signal for the catapult to fire. When it hit the North wall right on target, that's when he started leading the chant.

"Down with the penguin king!"

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The echo of the first boom woke Oswald before a chamberlain had reached his quarters. He was still sitting up in bed bewildered by the explosion when the rapping at the door woke him fully to his senses.

"Your Majesty! We're under attack! The rebels have surrounded our front gates!"

Panic gripped Oswald for a moment but it was quickly replaced with the thrill of vindication, "I knew it! I knew they'd storm the palace one day!" He was on his feet and pulling on his robes. His eyes were wild with excitement and his expression was full of conceit, "Those fools. Let them try."

He was already striding towards the northern wing with an armored escort when another attack sent the walls shaking. The sound of the impact alone was enough to send them all staggering backwards. Oswald cursed as he steadied himself. Soldiers and servants were scrambling all around him in chaos. He shouted for a captain to give him a report on the situation.

One immediately ran up to him with a nervous salute, "It's a catapult, your majesty. They're shooting in the darkness. We don't know how many they have. The drawbridge has been closed." Oswald could hear the low creaking and moaning of the heavy chains lifting the bridge upright. But that wasn't all he heard. He moved towards the stairway leading up to the battlements.

"We don't know how many of them are out there. They've surrounded the palace but they could be spread out as a ruse to make their numbers seem greater." Oswald heard his captain explain this, but he was listening to the chanting outside.

"The penguin king! King penguin! Penguin! Penguin!"

His own rage dulled all his senses. Suddenly, he could hear nothing but pounding in his ears.

"Archers! Bowmen! I want every soldier in the palace up on the wall!"

He finally reached the pathway where he could look over the wall. His captain tried to tell him to keep back in case of another attack, but he pushed him aside. He craned his neck and squinted his eyes over the dark horizon. Chants continued to echo in the distance, but he could see nothing.

Nevertheless, he pounded his fist against the wall and pointed at the direction of his enemies. He screamed at the captain, "Kill them! Kill every single one of them!"

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The prince had learned early in his training that the best way to defeat an enemy was to understand how their minds worked. Simply by looking at the way Oswald had built up the defenses over the palace, it was obvious that he harbored strong fears of a large-scale full frontal attack. He had built walls and prepared his army inside to withstand a siege. He had done everything to prepare for the worst possible disaster he could expect from his enemies. Rather than come up with some convoluted alternative plan he would never expect, it was much simpler give him exactly what he wanted. It made it much easier to predict his actions.

Using the mirror, the prince waited until there were only a few soldiers left guarding the south side. Quickly and carefully, he scaled the wall, passing by arrow slits and murder holes, confident in the knowledge that they were now unattended. He still had to take the risk that the few remaining soldiers above were too preoccupied with the attacks to look over the wall and spot him. Just before he could heave himself through a crenellation, he spied only two guards standing along the pathway. Sure enough, they were turned away, listening at the attacks and chanting.

Bruce was close enough to the first one to tackle him from behind. With a few key jabs at pressure points, he rendered him unconscious. The other soldier had turned and seen this, but before he could cry out an alarm, Bruce threw out a boomerang connected to a rope and silenced the guard with a choke. In a split second, he had pulled the man off balance and delivered a kick to knock him out before he hit the floor. Bruce checked the mirror to make sure there were no guards in the stairway before heading down.

In the chaos, it was easy to slip past palace inhabitants who were too busy panicking. He didn't have to worry too much about soldiers inside because they were all scrambling to gather in the north wall. With the mirror, Bruce knew which hallways would be left deserted. He made his way to the dungeons completely unnoticed. Before he turned the corner, he could see two heavily armored thugs guarding the passage into the dungeon chambers. There was no way he could take them down quickly without alerting other guards. Bruce waited and hoped everything would go according to plan.

Right on time, Captain Bullock appeared and walked right up to the men. He was in full armor and carrying his helmet under his arm, "What the hell are you two still doing here? We need every man and jack up in front. It's war out there!"

The two gruffs shifted nervously in their positions. One of them said, "We're only supposed to leave our stations when the king commands us."

Captain Bullock slapped his own face dramatically, "Well then in case you didn't hear, the king is out there screaming bloody murder for every soldier to get up the wall. You really think he'd want two of his biggest guns just standing here twiddling their thumbs when he's up to his neck in rebels?"

The two guards looked at each other, uncertain. Captain Bullock shook his head and put his helmet back on as he walked away.

"Fine, boys. It's your funeral." He waved at them as he disappeared behind the corner. Unknowingly, he passed by the prince who stood unmoving in the shadows.

The two guards only looked at each other once more before they hurried after Captain Bullock.

Bruce watched them pass him by before he headed into the dungeons.

There were only one or two "interrogators" inside the chambers according to the mirror. Bruce dealt with them swiftly. Knowing what these men did for Oswald without question or remorse, he made sure to leave them with a few broken limbs of their own when they woke up.

He stole the main key to the cells from one of them and found his way to where Alfred was kept. He found his friend in the last chamber. He would never forget the sight and smells that filled his senses. He unlocked the cell door and took Alfred in his arms.

"Alfred! Alfred, wake up! It's me. I'm here."

Alfred didn't respond. He was still unconscious. Bruce checked breathing and his pulse. It was faint, but Alfred was showing signs of life. He looked around and wondered how far he could carry the man before they were seen.

Suddenly, Alfred opened the one eye that wasn't swollen and blinked up at Bruce.

"Your Highness?" he said weakly and coughed, "Is it really you?"

Bruce looked at his mentor in relief. "It's me, Alfred. Are you alright?"

Alfred coughed some more, "Forgive me, lad, but I had to make myself ill." He produced a few tiny green pills in his palms. Bruce recognized them. It was medicine that he had helped Alfred concoct. Through the injuries in his face, Alfred managed a small smile. "They couldn't interrogate me properly, if I was too busy losing my lunch." Alfred let his hand fall and the pills scattered. Bruce held his broken body up. Alfred wheezed and shuddered at his injuries, "Didn't stop them from giving me a damn good thrashing, though."

"Alfred, I'm going to get you out of here. We don't have much time. Can you stand?"

With great pain and difficulty, Alfred managed to heave himself upright with Bruce's help. Bruce put the man's arm carefully over his shoulder and the two began to trudge their way out of the dungeon.

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Outside, Jim was counting how many more projectiles they could launch before they ran out. By now, Oswald must have guessed that they only had one catapult in their possession. There were several catapults in that warehouse, and some more dangerous ballistas. If they had more time and men that night, they could have probably stolen more of them. But Jim had told the men to dismantle what they couldn't take and burn down the warehouse when they were gone. The point of their mission wasn't to actually weaken the palace defenses so they could invade it.

There is a reason why hardly any army in the world attempted sieges anymore. They were arduous and complicated undertakings that required weeks of planning and excessive resources. The wealthiest kings in the past had gone bankrupt trying to fund a siege in its entirety. Even if he managed to gather every single member in the rebellion to form a proper army, a siege as an attack strategy would have been a complete waste of time and manpower. He already instructed the rebels to scatter and disappear the moment they could no longer fire the catapult.

The attack had a dual purpose. Mainly, it was to provide a distraction and draw all the security around and inside the castle to the northern front. But at the same time, it would humiliate Oswald and undermine his authority. The missiles they fired wouldn't be able to destroy the curtain walls but it would damage it just enough. In the cold light of day, everyone would see that the rebellion was wiling to stand up against the evil king. When the kingdom found out what happened that night, he would be a laughingstock. That would injure him more than any kind of attack. Sir James knew that they wouldn't defeat Oswald that night, but the rebellion would live to fight another day. They would achieve a small but meaningful victory. He observed the barrage they had left on the walls and smiled to himself. The sight gave him and his men hope. It was only a matter of time before they would finally unseat the evil usurper from the throne.

He prayed silently he had given the Bat enough time to do what he needed to.

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The officers had managed to convince the king to return inside the palace for his own safety. Oswald was still seething with rage in the throne room. He felt like he was at his wit's end.

"I don't care if you can't see them. Fire all the cannons in their direction. Just do something!"

"But you're majesty, the curtain walls will hold and they've made no attempt to approach the palace from any direction. If we wait them out, they'll simply exhaust themselves."

Oswald exploded out of his throne, "Wait? They are attacking and sneering at their king, captain. I want all their bodies burning on traitor's hill by morning!"

He pointed at the windows where he could still hear the chanting, "Open up the drawbridge and lead your men out there now! Find them!"

The captain gave a hesitant salute, "Y-yes, your majesty." He gave a bow before he ran out of the room and started shouting for soldiers.

Oswald collapsed back on the throne and felt his hands claw at his face. He wondered if those rebels had gone mad. There was no way they could possibly penetrate the palace defenses by firing a few missiles at random. All they had managed to accomplish was berate him with rocks and insults from a safe distance.

 _"Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a yeoman."_

The king thought he was alone in the throne room but apparently the court jester had been there the whole time. He wiggled his stick full of bells at an invisible court and continued, _"No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman for his son; for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman before him."_

Oswald rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming. "Spare me your idiotic Shakespeare, boy. Besides, you're just a clown. You're not sophisticated enough to be Lear's fool." The jester only chucked at this insult and shook his bells some more.

The young man always seemed to have a touch of madness about him, but he was harmless. He simply appeared one day and became a fixture in court not long after Oswald was crowned king. He proved to be entertaining in his own way. His jokes and gags were terrible if not nonsensical. But he would take any kind of abuse from anyone in the palace with a smile and laugh. It was entertaining enough for everyone to have someone they could humiliate and ridicule whenever they pleased.

The king didn't usually have the patience for cheap entertainers, but the jester was a surprisingly good sounding board. Historically, kings kept jesters around because they had no one else to speak to as an equal. Since the boy was too simple and mad to pay any real attention to what was said to him, Oswald could freely vent out whatever was weighing his mind. He didn't have to worry about receiving any kind of true insolence from him.

At that moment, he was a welcome distraction from the mayhem outside. It seemed like the jester had given up quoting Shakespeare. He produced a deck of cards and pulled one out. If the king had been paying attention, he would have noticed it was the Jack. "Would your majesty like to see a magic trick?"

Oswald wasn't certain if the boy was even aware of what was happening in the castle. Rather than try to draw his attention to the chanting outside or the rubble that had fallen from the walls, he waved away the jester with a hand.

"Perhaps m'lord would enjoy it more if I explained how the trick is done."

Oswald leaned wearily against his hand, but he did not discourage the boy.

He had returned the Jack into the deck, shuffled it, and spread it out like the fan towards his audience. "First I would ask any king, gentleman or nitwit to choose a card." The Jester chose a card himself and pulled out the Ace of spades. "Now what the audience sees is one card, but the trickster's hands are always faster than the eye. In fact, I have lifted two cards." He turned the Ace of Spades around to show that an extra card hidden seamlessly behind it. The jester simply held them as if they were both one card. " He opens the deck into a fan once more. "So then I'll ask the nitwit to choose wherever he wants me to return his card. It won't matter what choice he makes. This is just to make him think he has some sense of control."

Before he returned the card back into a random part of the deck he showed it to the king. He was not holding the Ace of spades but the Jack. "Because you see, I've already switched your card for another." He returned the Jack into the fan and folded it back into one stack. Without any kind of fancy flourish, he chose the card at the very top of the deck and revealed it to be the Ace of Spades. "Ta-daaaah!", he cried as if the room had burst into applause. He swept his feet and bowed deeply in every direction.

"Thank you! Thank you!" He blew kisses at the invisible crowd and shook his bells in triumph.

The king had watched all this, but his eyes had gone unfocused towards the end. As the jester indulged in more bows and adulation, Oswald slowly got up from his throne, his eyes now as large as saucers.

"The prisoner", he whispered.

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Bruce and Alfred had made their way out of the dungeons, but they couldn't move as fast as they needed to. Alfred was injured and weak from his induced sickness. Bruce felt like he was carrying him most of the way towards their escape. They had to make it to the palace kitchens where a Spanish kitchen maid would show them a hidden way out. Sir James had told him that her name was Montoya, and she was an undercover spy for the rebellion.

They were heading towards a door that would lead them straight to the meeting place. It was at the end of a long hallway. They were so close, but Alfred had to pause several times to catch his breath.

"Alfred, we're almost there. Just-"

Suddenly the hallway was filled with echoes of clanking armor. By the growing noise, Bruce could tell armored guards were heading right for them. He looked to the door and knew that they wouldn't be able to make their escape in time.

"Alfred move!"

With a sudden burst of speed, the prince half dragged his companion towards their exit. The guards in full armored suits had turned the corner when they finally reached the door. In one quick move, the prince pushed Alfred through the doorway and before his friend realized what was happening, he slammed the door close, leaving Alfred alone on the other side.

Bruce secured the lock with a wedged dagger so Alfred couldn't get back in. He turned and barred the way for the guards that had stopped just a few feet away. The prince was cornered. The guards made no move to apprehend him yet. They stepped aside to make way for the king.

"You really think I would be so stupid to fall for such a simple ruse?" Oswald stalked his way through his armed escort until he was face to face with the spy that had infiltrated his palace. The smug look on his face bordered on manic. He was brandishing his own long sword. He pointed it at the spy's throat like an accusing finger.

"You thought you could snatch up my prisoner right from under my nose? Neither of you were ever going to make it out of here alive."

Oswald kept his sword high, but he took a several steps back before he shouted, "Guards! Take him and the prisoner behind that door."

The guards began to take formation with the king safely shielded behind them.

The spy stood his ground as the guards began to approach him cautiously. He kept his arms hidden inside his cloak.

In his low gruff voice, the prince said to them, "No one is getting through that door."

The king laughed at him from the other end of the hall, "Those rebels were mad to come up with a plan like this. They need an army to create a distraction but they only send one man for a rescue mission."

The prince crouched into a fighting stance. "Trust me. I'm more than enough for the likes of you, _Penguin_."

In one fluid motion, he threw several tiny glass spheres at the guards. They shattered on the stone floor and smoke exploded out of them.

The prince was suddenly wearing an extension of his mask that protected him from breathing the fumes. The smoke bombs he threw not only worked to blind his enemies but they also contained a nerve agent that would incapacitate them.

The hallway was a narrow one and the whole squad was crammed in by their own formation. The prince knew that this was an advantage. The nerve agent would do most of the work. All he had to do was force the guards to slam heavily against one another and fall down. The gas would weaken them and their own armor would make it difficult to get back up again.

He weaved his way surgically through the throng. A few guards managed to swing their swords around wildly before Bruce could take them down. He sent each guard crashing against another and one by one they found themselves on the ground unable to get back up. The prince dodged and pushed his way through the whole melee until the gas dissipated. When the smoke cleared, none of the guards were left standing. The prince stood over them completely unscathed.

He turned his attention to Oswald who was stood frozen in shock. The prince picked up a sword that had fallen on the ground and made his way towards the king. Oswald suddenly came to his senses and started to back away. He seemed unsure about keeping his sword up in defense.

"Get back! Don't you dare lay a hand on me! I am the king!" he cried vainly.

In one move, Oswald's sword was knocked out of his hands. The prince's slow and deliberate stride never faltered. Oswald was desperately trying to keep away but he kept stumbling as his nemesis drew closer. When the two were finally inches apart, the prince drew back his sword. Instead of bringing down the blade, he gripped the hilt of his sword, and with his knuckles, he gave Oswald a solid punch in the face.

He didn't give him a chance to recover before delivering another punch that sent him staggering back. The monarch cried out in pain. When he looked up, his nose was broken and bleeding.

The prince grabbed the wretched man by the scruff and pulled his bloodstained face towards him so he could look him directly in the eye.

He growled, "You're no king, Oswald." He aimed the tip of his blade towards Oswald's throat. "You've done nothing but terrorize innocent people in this kingdom. You've corrupted the crown you've stolen," the growl became a hoarse whisper, " _And you murdered the king and queen_."

Oswald shuddered as the blade pricked his skin. Panic filled his chest until he screamed out, "What do you want?"

 _"Marry, here's a grace and a codpiece; that's a wise man and a fool."_

The jester had followed the king and his guardsmen from the throne room. He now stood as an eager spectator of this climactic scene from behind a corner.

The prince wasn't distracted by his sudden presence. He kept his firm hold on Oswald. Oswald was too afraid to move against the blade but he shouted desperately at the jester, "Don't just stand there, you clown! Help me!"

The jester responded with a hearty laugh. He did a short jig from behind the corner and simply gave his bells a good shake.

The prince slid his sword blade over Oswald's throat. One swift move would end the man's life. Oswald was rigid with fear.

The blade was practically choking Oswald. "You made the biggest mistake of your life the night you murdered my family, duke Cobblepot." He made sure Oswald was close enough to see his eyes through his mask, "because you left me alive."

The prince watched as the revelation sent a change through Oswald's features. He didn't even exclaim any incredulity. He knew exactly who was holding a blade to his throat.

"You," Oswald whispered, "It's you." The man began to sputter, "I-I always knew you would come back and-" Oswald's face contorted into a broken smile. He spoke so low, it seemed like he was talking to himself, _"All these years, I knew you would be the one who killed me."_

The prince had dreamed of this moment many times. He had probably practiced every conceivable way of killing Oswald in his mind. In that moment, all it would take was one decisive motion. He gripped his sword and felt how easy it would all be.

Tucked safely away in his corner, the jester clapped his hands in glee and began to hop about excitedly as the drama came to a head. He cried excitedly, _"This cold night has turned us all into fools and madmen!"_ He thrust his stick into the air repeatedly and his bells chimed in victory. _"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth! One good turn deserves another! Kill the king and long live the king!"_

The prince held his blade. He blinked and looked at the man who had sent his parents to their deaths. The villain was quivering like a frightened animal in his hold. His revenge was ripe and ready in his hands. Oswald deserved to die on his knees, whimpering like a dog. And then he thought about what his mother and father deserved.

Bruce looked into the man's scared little face and whispered, " _No_."

He slowly drew back his blade, but kept a tight hold on Oswald. The king looked up when he realized the sword had been withdrawn from his neck. He stared back up into cold unforgiving eyes once more

"You're going to pay for your crimes, Oswald, and the whole kingdom will see. _You_ will see it. I'll make sure if it."

Bruce shoved Oswald hard against the stone floor as he stood up. He kept his blade trained as he towered over him. "A death here and now is too good for you."

As he turned his back to the king he said, "The rebellion will never stop, Oswald and neither will I. There will be a reckoning. Be ready for that day."

Oswald gaped as his enemy headed for the door at the end of the hallway. He had just escaped certain death but instead of relief, the panic that gripped him was replaced by humiliation. Red rage began to fill his vision as he watched the boy pick his way through his army of guards littering the floor.

The jester had ceased his celebrations when he realized nobody had died. He shook his head in disappointment. His bells sounded forlorn.

"Tsk tsk, Milord. I believe the audience wants their money back. People wanted to see the hero slay the dragon. Seems that your majesty was just a lizard."

He seemed to be narrating the prince's final steps towards his escape. "And so the legend continues, the once and future king will return to claim his throne as surely as the people will rejoice at the penguin king's demise." Oswald was seething heavily next to the clown whose thoughts suddenly began to spill out in a continuous lunatic rave.

 _"It's a dog eat dog world. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. They grow up so fast, y'know? Survival of the fittest. The only good king is a dead king. He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf. No more Mr. Nice Guy! Every dog has his day! Woof woof woof woof woof woof. Who's a good dog? Who's a good dog? Who? Who? Who? Who? WHO?"_

The hall exploded with the sound of Oswald's scream. In a flash, he had sprung from the floor and grabbed his fallen sword. He was still screaming at the top of his lungs as he bounded towards the prince, ready to thrust the blade through his spine. Bruce turned just in time to deflect the blow. Oswald continued to swing his sword in a frenzy. Bruce managed to dodge and block him each time he struck. His mind raced as he tried to search for an opening. It was more dangerous dealing with an opponent that had gone berserk. Oswald was suddenly relentless. Bruce jumped back to dodge one wild swing but he didn't move fast enough. He felt the blade cut right into his arm.

Bruce grit his teeth to suppress a cry of pain. When Oswald realized that he had actually drawn blood, his expression turned triumphant.

Emboldened, he continued his assault. The cut was deep. Bruce knew he couldn't use his sword arm without making the injury worse. He kept jumping out of Oswald's way until he could see a pattern in his crazed attacks. Finally he saw his chance. He switched his sword to his other arm and delivered a swift uppercut. Oswald's enraged screams abruptly became a wail of agony. He stumbled back, clutching the right side of his face. The blade had left a huge gash. He was bleeding profusely from his left eye.

Oswald dropped to his knees and his sword clattered beside him. The pain and shock had immobilized him. Bruce looked down at the man crumpled on the floor one last time. Without another word, he turned and reached the door where Alfred was waiting on the other side. He removed the dagger he had used to lock it and made his exit. Before the door closed behind him, he heard the jester laughing. His bells were jingling all the way down the hall.

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Alfred remained safe and unharmed behind the door. Bruce picked him back up and continued to support him, ignoring his own fresh injury and they made their way to the kitchens.

Montoya met them there as planned. She had managed to clear the area of bystanders. Quickly, she led them through passages that led directly out of the palace. As they moved, she reported to them that the rebels had scattered from the north side not too long ago. Every single one of them managed to evade capture. She told them that some rebels would be waiting for them when they escaped to the forest. She would stay behind and remain undercover in the palace. When they were finally outside, Bruce thanked her and wished her luck.

"Luck to you as well, Bat. Glad to have you on our side," she disappeared behind the passage door and left the two to escape the rest of the way.

They were able to reach the cover of the trees easily. Sir James Gordon was waiting for them. He was on horseback and was accompanied by Grayson and a mount for Alfred. As soon as they were reunited, Sir James helped Bruce secure Alfred on his horse and they rode as quickly as they could deeper into the woods.

When they were finally a safe distance away from the palace, the knight signaled for them to halt. Now that it was safe for them to talk, he turned to the stranger and said, "I can't believe a plan that insane actually worked." He had been leading Alfred's horse with a rope that connected both their mounts. He drew Alfred's horse closer and inspected the man. Alfred still managed to stay on his horse, but the pain and exhaustion left him barely conscious. "He needs a doctor", Sir James said. Bruce nodded and consciously kept his injured arm hidden under his cloak.

"I'm glad you got him out alive. I suppose I should know better than to ask how you managed it." His eyes held the prince's gaze, "Did you meet Oswald in there?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And he won't forget this night for as long as he lives. I told him to be prepared when the rebellion strikes again."

"You didn't kill him, then?" Gordon's gaze became a steely one.

"No."

The knight stared at him for a while before he nodded, satisfied. "Well done," he said. He tried to see past the trees. The palace was far enough behind them, but he saw it clearly as he remembered how he had left it. "We've done good work tonight, but the fight it just beginning for us."

Bruce checked his belt to make sure the mirror was still there. Grayson was aware of the magic pulsating behind his back and stamped nervously in place. Now that Alfred was safe, he had to get back to Selina. He had been gone for too long, and he was sure of it.

Bruce took one more look at Alfred before he turned to Sir James and said, "I have to go. I'm needed elsewhere. I need you to keep Alfred safe while he recovers."

The knight steadied his injured friend and nodded, "I will. Have a safe journey, stranger. I hope we meet again." Bruce nodded back and signaled Grayson to change directions. As they were on their way, Gordon called out to him, "Make sure you tend to that arm!"

Bruce gave the knight a small smile and a salute before he propelled Grayson to a gallop.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The castle was dim and quiet at midnight. The queen made her way towards her daughter's chambers as she always did at the end of a long and tiring day. Selina had been told to go to sleep hours before, but she always waited up for her mother late into the night until she arrived. The queen knew she shouldn't encourage it, but it seemed to be the only time they could enjoy being together anymore.

When she reached the bedchamber, the queen eased the door open and took a peek inside. The thin crack of light revealed that the large bed at the center of the room was empty. She heard a soft noise in the corner where a large collection of Selina's favorite toys was gathered. She kept her footsteps light as she moved towards their direction. She found several large stuffed animal toys clustered together. The queen had to squint a bit to make out which shape among these toys was the one she was looking for. She heard soft sniffle somewhere in the dark. The queen knelt carefully next to the young princess who had cocooned herself inside a heavy bundle of blankets. Instead of addressing her directly, the queen turned her full attention to one large bear beside her.

"Excuse me Mr. Bear, I'm looking for my daughter. Have you seen her?" She held up her hand slightly over her head and said, "She's about this tall and she loves to eat. You would remember if you saw her. She's the most beautiful girl in the world."

Selina would usually laugh whenever her mother said this. Her immediate response would always be to shout back, "No you're the most beautiful in the world!" and she would barrel over to attack her with a hug. In this instance, Selina didn't respond. Her mother knew something was wrong.

Lately, she had been told that he daughter had been having difficulties. It seemed that she was encountering more things that upset her as she got older. Selina also made it more difficult to help her because she was at an age where she no longer wanted to be treated like a baby. As a result, she learned to bottle up her emotions and keep her problems to herself. She was determined never to cry in front of anyone, especially her mother. Selina would get more upset when she failed to mask her emotions. It always broke her mother's heart. The queen wanted so badly to just cradle her in her arms until she felt better. She had to learn how to reach out to her daughter indirectly.

"You know, your back will ache if you sit on the floor for too long, Cat." Recently, Selina had started to go by that nickname after she decided it was her favorite animal. She made her mother promise her that she could have one as a pet one day. The queen continued, saying, "If I bring you to your bed, you can sit all night. You don't even have to come out of your cave. Is it okay if mommy carries you there?"

The blankets were silent. Then there was small nod made from within. Immediately, her mother scooped up the entire bundle from the floor and carried it towards the bed. Holding the small body, she took that opportunity to envelope it in the warmest embrace. She carefully set her daughter down on her favorite side of the bed and moved to lie behind her so that Selina could safely keep her face hidden from view. Her mother watched the soft rise and fall of the blanket sheets, and chose her next words carefully.

"A few noble families came to visit today. Your governess told me you played with some of the children."

Selina's back visibly tensed.

There was a crack in Selina's voice, "They told me to go away. They said they didn't want to play with me."

The queen hand twitched to touch her daughter, but she fought the urge. Without moving, she asked, "Oh? Why would they say that?"

"They said I wasn't the king's daughter. That I wasn't really a princess."

Selina's mother felt her own chest tighten.

"Cat, that's nonsense. Of course you're a real princess. Those children were just being mean to you. You shouldn't listen to them."

On impulse, the queen wrapped her daughter in her arms over the blankets. She was relieved to feel Selina welcome her embrace.

The little girl allowed herself to peek out of her refuge so her mother could stroke her hair. After a while she said, "Mommy?"

"Mmm?" her mother answered.

"Can I stop being a princess?"

The queen gave a pause, then asked, "Why, Selina? What's wrong with being a princess?"

She could see her child wringing her small hands absentmindedly. Selina answered, "I hate it. I'm sad all the time."

"Oh, Selina." Her mother held her tighter. "You shouldn't feel that way. Why are you sad?"

She waited, but Selina didn't offer up an answer. The queen could guess it could be any number of things. It wasn't hard for her to imagine.

The queen struggled to find a way to comfort her daughter, "You're a princess and I'm the queen. We live in this beautiful castle, and we can have whatever we want. You can't be sad here."

Selina was shaking her head. "I never see you anymore, Mommy. You're always busy. If I stop being a princess, can you stop being a queen?"

The queen was at a loss for words.

Her voice faltered saying, "You can't run away from who you're supposed to be, Selina. If you did that, you'd make a lot of people very angry."

Selina looked up at her mother sadly. She asked, "So if stop being a princess, I'll be bad?"

It was the queen's turn to hide her face from her daughter. She quickly wiped her face so Selina wouldn't see anything wrong with it. She held on to the small child like she was a tether.

"I don't know, Cat. I don't know if you'll be any happier if you're not a princess."

She heard her daughter utter a soft, "Oh." and watched her head sink into her pillow. The child slid deeper into her heavy blankets and settled into her mother's arms.

The queen buried her face in her baby's soft golden curls and rocked them both slowly.

"It will be okay, Selina. We'll be alright." Her mother's words became whispers, and soon they disappeared into silence.

As Selina entered sleep, she hoped that the heavy sadness in her chest would disappear when she woke up.

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Selina felt cold and she knew she was awake. With her eyes still shut, she tried to sit upright. Her whole body ached from sleeping on the stone floor.

The glow of the rose hurt her eyes when she finally opened them. She got up from the makeshift nest of blankets and cushions she had piled up close to the flower. There were only three petals left clinging on to the stem. She had never seen the rose behave this way before. The magic surrounding it seemed to be fluctuating. It was taking longer for the magic to return to the castle each time a petal was lost. Selina couldn't get the candles and fireplace to reignite themselves with a simple command anymore.

She brushed off some dust from the ceiling that fell on her while she was asleep. The earthquakes were growing stronger with increasing regularity. She felt the low rumble of the ground shaking beneath her. Since the last quake that rocked the castle, it left a dull persistent shaking that threatened to build up again at any moment.

Selina didn't know how long she slept but she felt more tired now that she was awake again. She had slept restlessly. She wasn't sure if what she had dreamt was an actual memory or not. The dream only made her remember the past vividly. It made her think back to time when her mother had gone missing. It was six months after her disappearance when it was decreed that the search for her would be put to an end. By then, the woman was completely scorned and hated by everyone in the kingdom. She was officially banished as an exile. She would never be allowed to set foot in the kingdom of Eastend.

Even so, like a lost child, Selina continued to ask for her mother. Every day she was told very plainly that her mother was never coming back. But Selina refused to accept that. For a long time, she continued to wait and hope. As more time passed, the more miserable she felt.

Eventually, she understood that she had been abandoned. She was thrown away by the only person she had ever loved. Selina shook her head and allowed the dream to fade from her mind completely. She realized that she had woken up feeling angry. She was tired and frustrated. She had done nothing in the past few days but watch over the rose and wait for the inevitable ending.

She turned away and walked over to the window. She could no longer tell what time of the day it was. The horizon was blurred and darkened by heavy snowfall. It showed no signs of letting up. Selina felt like she was slowly being buried alive by the endless snow. The weather outside had also taken an ugly turn since Bruce had left.

Selina's breath fogged up the glass until she was looking at her own reflection. She was standing on the same spot where she watched him leave. Her heart felt as cold as it did then. When she had lost sight of him, Selina proceeded to tidy up every single room in the castle before locking them back up again. When everything was put away and shut up, she returned to her chambers and began her vigil over the rose.

In her solitude, she found herself reflecting on their time together in the castle. Selina smiled, thinking back to what it had been like between them early on. At first, the boy had been nothing but a thorn at her side. She did her best to ignore him, but he made it difficult for her. She wanted nothing to do with him but he continued to surprise and annoy her at every turn. But he still left in the end. Even if they never met, she probably would be standing on the exact same spot waiting for the end. Selina thought about that and shook her head. No, something did change.

Selina had taken her time tidying up the library. It took her a while considering that Bruce had thoroughly ransacked it. He had probably read an actual mountain of books in his search to break or undo the curse. She was glad that he had something to keep him preoccupied at the time. Selina looked at her eyes reflected in the glass. Bruce was someone that she didn't need to keep secrets from. Knowing that made it more painful every time she had to lie to him. Even if she had confessed that the witch had indeed told her what she needed to do, there was nothing he could have done to help her.

Selina thought back to her final moments with the witch. The witch's dark magic was suffocating her. She was reduced to a shivering heap on the floor. She was growing more and more lightheaded from the lack of air and the unbearable cold. The witch penetrated the castle with the winter storm outside. The only light in the room came from the moon shining through the shattered windows. She knew she was still conscious because she could still hear the witch laughing. The madwoman continued to dance in circles all around the room, playing with falling snow flurries like a child.

Suddenly, she could feel the witch murmuring right against her face. Her voice was filled with sudden sweetness. "Can I tell you a secret, little one? It belongs to you but you keep it from yourself.

"Do you know why you stayed in this place all these years? A clever child like you could have escaped any time. You were never afraid, you are not noble and you were never trapped. You told yourself it was easier to do what you were told and stopped having to feeling anything, but that's not true, is it? A docile little animal is not what you are. You are a human with a heart and that is your true burden.

"How many years has it been since your mother left you? She abandoned you in the cold wood all alone when you were still a baby. You could have died and she would never have known. Did you hate her the moment you understood what she had done to you? Why not run away from your life then?"

The witch gave pause, but she didn't wait for an answer. The princess remained limp in her claws.

"My dear, the reason is simple: you stayed lonely in this place for as long as you did because you loved your mother and wherever she was, you still wanted to make her happy.

"So I watched and waited. It was only a matter of time before you realized that she would never care for whatever you did in her name. She didn't stay and she never came back. Your mother would never know you ever again. It took years before you finally gave up. I watched your heart turn like an apple in the sun. A love spoiled into hate. Hearts like yours have been my bread and butter for a millennia."

The witch tucked a lock of the princess's hair behind her ear absentmindedly. It made Selina's skin crawl. "Everything that's ever happened to you, everything that you have become is because of her. You want to run from your crown and this castle to the edge of worlds beyond but you can never escape. The hate is in your bones."

The witch sighed to herself, almost sounding tired, "There's really no trick to laying a curse over you, princess. You've already done all the heavy lifting."

Selina's frozen body felt like she was being pierced with a thousand needles, yet somehow her eyes burned and she felt icicles grow around her cheeks.

The witch only chuckled, "Now I need you to pay attention. This is the part where I tell you how you can break the spell. You have a chance to earn you freedom." Selina felt her spidery fingertips stroke her face even though her skin had gone numb. "Now, you must understand that curses are like games. I can't cast the spell without setting up the rules and you can't win or lose if you don't know what they are."

The witch stood upright and began circling the princess like a vulture, "The rules vary with every curse. I can make the conditions as challenging as I want but you will have a chance to succeed. Think of an archer who has to shoot a target from a mountain away. You are the archer and I will fashion the mountain."

She tapped at her chin coyly, "Hmm, so what shall it be? True love's kiss?" The witch made a face, "No, no. Any idiot can fall in love. No, I think something more poetic is required." The winds had died down and the cold air seemed to amplify the witch's voice. The snow muffled any other sound. After some thought, she smiled to herself and turned back to the princess at her feet.

When she spoke again, her voice sounded more lyrical, like she was reciting a poem. This is how the witch began her curse.

"You've been able to bear the loneliness in your life because you've hidden your heart and locked it away in a castle that no one can see. So tell you what, little girl. I'll do the same to you."

The witch drew back a bit, looking almost thoughtful. If Selina could see her face, she would have thought the witch's expression had a look of pity. "You see, my dear, you mortals are so easy to trap because you build your own prisons."

The witch drew closer to Selina's slumped form so she whisper into Selina's ear, "The only way you can escape this place is if you can find someone who sees you for exactly who you are. Behind the walls."

The witch smiled her viper smile. "But curses always cut both ways. You must return the favor. You must see what truly lies in another's heart as well." Selina finally opened her eyes, though she could barely focus. The two adversaries held each other's gaze one last time.

"I've studied your heart closely, my dear. If you suffer this punishment until the very end, you cannot blame me. It will be your own failure."

The witch stood back up with her hands on her hips, looking satisfied. The malice had returned in her eyes, "Now, I do believe this royal audience has ended." She bowed low, gracefully lifting her dark garments like a proper courtier, "I bid you goodnight, your majesty."

With a wave of her hand, the dark shadows filled Selina's vision. She never saw the witch again after that.

Selina had told Bruce everything about the night of the curse until that crucial end of the story. It took her a while to piece together the events of that night and what the witch had said to her. She remembered her words, but was never sure of what the witch had meant.

It was only a little while before Bruce left when she had finally begun to understand.

Selina could barely see the snow through the frost on the glass. She withdrew from the window and decided to build a fire. She busied herself piling up some kindling. It took her a few tries, but she managed to create a spark with some flint. As she watched the flames grow, she told herself that it was a good thing that Bruce had left, really. Since the rose had started wilting, Selina suspected the witch's punishment would get much worse. Bruce was much safer staying far away from her. Even if there was a small chance he could have helped her, she didn't want to risk something horrible happening to both of them if they failed.

Selina turned around and saw that a few candles had managed to light themselves back up, though the entire chamber remained cold. Selina drew her blankets closer and warmed her palms over the small fire she had made. She was getting ready to face the end. If only she could douse the small hope that still burned in her heart.

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Bruce wanted Grayson to keep a steady pace, but the horse started to sense something going wrong with his rider. Since the start of their journey back to the castle, Bruce had lost a considerable amount of blood. He replaced the crude bandages he had fashioned over his wounded arm several times, but he had not stopped to rest since they had left Gotham. Even when he was treating his injuries, he remained on horseback and moving quickly. He only varied the pace sometimes so that Grayson could conserve energy, but he refused to do the same for himself. His training had taught him how to push his own limits, but the journey was taking a toll on his body. He forced himself to use his injured arm. He ignored how his hands shook as he gripped the magic mirror. He steered Grayson to the paths it showed him. They still had quite a distance to travel before they reached the castle.

As they stayed the course, Bruce grew weaker. His vision began to blur and he began to dip in and out of consciousness. Bruce jolted himself awake when he realized that Grayson had stopped. The horse had felt his rider go limp in his seat. Bruce urged the horse to keep moving, but Grayson protested. His rider stubbornly continued to press him forward until the horse eventually complied.

Grayson only managed a light trot before Bruce slipped off his saddle and collapsed on the ground. Grayson gave out a cry of panic and circled back for his rider. Bruce lay unmoving as his horse stomped fretfully around him. Grayson gave loud whinny to get the boy's attention. He rose up and stomped at the ground hoping to startle him awake. Bruce remained still. Frantic, Grayson bent down nosing and nudging his body. When he came upon the fleshy area of his lower leg, he bit down hard.

With a cry, Bruce threw his head back. The sudden pain from the bite shocked him back to consciousness. He curled up instinctively and gripped his throbbing leg. At the sound of his voice, Grayson immediately released him. He continued to stomp around in worry, but he was relieved to see his rider awake again. Bruce blinked and realized what had happened. He lay back on the ground and gave a small laugh. Grayson drew close and Bruce patted the horse's muzzle. He told him, "Thank you, my friend."

Bruce heaved himself back up slowly into a sitting position. His head spun and he had to wait for his vision to refocus. He was about to get up on his feet when he realized that he wasn't holding the mirror. In a bolt of panic, he twisted around, searching for where he could have dropped it. He spotted it not far from where he had fallen. He got up quickly and stumbled over to it. He dreaded for a moment that the mirror had broken. He gave a loud sigh of relief when he saw that the mirror was undamaged. There wasn't a scratch on the surface.

He calmed himself and asked the mirror to show him the way to the castle again. The image began to form, but then suddenly, it darkened and disappeared. Bruce was left staring at his own reflection. He held the mirror with both hands and repeated his demand to see the way back to the castle. Instead of an image resurfacing, a tiny crack appeared on the mirror. In a split second, the crack spread throughout the smooth surface and the mirror shattered in Bruce's hands.

"No!" he cried, trying to grab at the pieces that were falling away. He knelt down and picked up several broken shards, now blackened and rusted. Bruce held them and cried repeatedly, "Show me the castle! I need to see the way back to the castle!" but none of the pieces showed him anything. The mirror was useless. The magic had somehow been drained from it.

He dropped the shards and got to his feet. He looked up at Grayson and thought about his chances of finding the castle the way he had found it the first time. He shook his head. They needed a direct route. They didn't have time to waste running around in circles. Something was happening to the castle at that moment. The broken mirror was a sign. He needed to get to Selina the fastest way possible.

Bruce was grasping to think of another way back. He didn't realize how much he was still gripping a small shard of the mirror. It pricked the inside of his bare clenched fist and drew blood. Its blackened surface was smeared. Bruce looked at the shard he held in his hands and remembered that it was created out of dark magic. From what he had read, blood was often a price. Suddenly, an idea came to him. He wiped away some of the blood from the surface with his thumb. He allowed his palm to keep bleeding around the mirror's edges. Once more, he asked the tiny piece of the mirror to show him the way back to the castle.

Like a ripple in a murky pool, an image of the castle slowly emerged. It shifted to show him the path he needed to take from where he was in the forest. Without another thought, Bruce held the shard in his teeth as he hoisted himself back up on Grayson. He got out a rope from his supplies and tied himself securely to the saddle in case his body threatened to fall off the saddle again. He spit the shard back out into hand and gave it a fresh drop of blood with his finger. The image became clearer and he led Grayson towards the right path.

Soon, Bruce's hands were completely bloodstained. He wasn't bothered by this. In fact, his spirits lifted when the temperature suddenly dropped and it began to snow. He felt adrenaline shoot through his body. They had found the way back and they were getting close. He was certain that he was on the path that led straight to the castle gates when the biggest quake hit them.

Grayson reared back when the snow exploded at their feet and the ground cracked open. Bruce felt his hand release the last shard of the magic mirror and saw it disappear into the snow. He grabbed the reins instead. If he had not tied himself to the saddle, he definitely would have been thrown off Grayson. The quake continued. The horse was still rearing in panic but he managed to get clear of the earth breaking open beneath them. Bruce did his best to keep Grayson focused and steady. He watched as the quake uprooted several old trees around them. Bruce saw their deep heavy trunks shoot out of the ground. They crashed together in a tangle of branches.

This caused a domino effect among rows of trees. The whole wood started crashing in on itself in every direction. One falling oak hit a rotting trunk causing it to break in half from the impact. It splintered and toppled towards Bruce and his horse. Bruce reacted quickly and steered Grayson out of harm's way. It missed them by just a few inches and the hunk of wood plowed into the snow beside them. The flying debris propelled them to gallop over the spray of snow and dodge heavy falling branches left and right. Bruce couldn't see past his own nose at this point so he had to put his trust on Grayson. He rode practically blind through the chaos.

Gradually, the violent shaking began to subside, but the ground continued to shudder. Bruce could see his way better through their current course. The whole forest looked like it had been raked over. Bruce never imagined the curse would cause destruction like this. He slapped his reins and cried out for Grayson to go even faster. They jumped over fallen trees and more jutting roots. Bruce's maneuvered his way through as quickly as he could.

He caught his breath when he finally saw the gates in the distance. The way to it was littered with more uprooted and fallen wood. The ground was broken and uneven but he and Grayson soared through it all. When he rushed through the gates, the first thing he saw was that most of the castle facade had crumbled off completely. Panic gripped him when he realized it would take one more massive quake to send the castle collapsing in on itself. If the magic had gone from the place the same way the mirror had lost its power, there was nothing to keep the castle from being completely destroyed. Bits and pieces of the walls were already breaking apart as the shaking persisted. As Bruce got closer, he could see all of the glass windows were broken. As soon as he was at the foot of the steps, he leaped off Grayson and shouted at him to stay outside.

Bruce ran to the entryway door and wrenched it open. He stepped inside just in time to see one of the grand chandeliers plummet to the floor a thunderous crash, sending bits of crystal and wax sailing through the air. There interior was falling apart everywhere. The ground was littered with shattered antiques, china and ornaments that had fallen from broken shelves and upturned furniture. Several other chandeliers had crashed to the floor. Paintings fell and tapestries ripped around him as he made his way further inside. The last quake must have broken up the stone floor. It was nothing but a craggy shamble of fissures and cracks now. Bruce had to be careful where he stepped or he would find himself dropping into a sudden crevasse.

As he ran, he noticed his breath blowing past him. It was much colder inside than it was outside. There were a few candles that managed to stay alight but their flames kept flickering. It wouldn't be long until there was no more magic left inside the castle at all.

Selina could have been anywhere. Bruce considered for a moment that she may have already gone outside to safety, but his mind flashed back to his last image of her. She was standing all alone in the middle of the room with the rose. She had shouted at him to go, but he thought about how she looked before he turned away.

He turned a corner and made his way straight for the west wing. He stopped when he saw that the grand staircase was completely destroyed. The last quake caused it to cave in completely. The doors that led to the west wing were intact, but now they resembled more a balcony at the top of a high tower. The steps lay crumbled in a heap below. Without another thought, Bruce dove right into it and started climbing over the collapsed marble like it was the face of a rocky mountain.

Unfortunately, the shaking continued, causing the loose rubble to shift. Bruce suddenly lost his footing, but it was fortuitous because it forced him to jump aside in time as debris from the head of the pile tumbled down past him. He secured his hold again and waited for the shifting to settle. He looked up at the doors above him. How strange it was to be exactly where he had waited for Selina on the night of their first dance.

The doors were closed. There was really nothing left of the staircase itself except a short ledge of marble with a torn bit of carpet. The pile of rubble he was climbing over wasn't high or stable enough for him to jump up and grab on to the ledge. He looked the torn carpet. It was nailed to the top of the staircase. He thought that if he could jump high enough to reach the torn end, he maybe able to use it heave himself up to the ledge.

Bruce set his jaw and began to climb. His scramble over the rubble had opened up the wounds in his hands and the injury in his arm. The climb was a painful one and the blood made his grip slippery. Slowly, he was able to make his way up. He stood precariously at the top of the marble pile that threatened to shift again. He could feel his legs shaking. When he propelled himself to a jump, he would only have one chance to grab the carpet. The rubble would fall away beneath him and collapse further away from the ledge. If he missed and fell, there was nothing but a pile of jagged stone below.

He took a deep breath and launched himself.

His heart stopped when he felt the carpet in his hands. He stifled a cry when it went taut. All the wounds in his hands and injured arm opened up at once. His body swayed slightly as he hung aloft. He bit back the pain in his arm and tightened his hold when he felt the blood in his hands slipping up his grip. With all of his willpower, he began to climb up the carpet. He left bloody handprints as he ascended. The wound in his arm had reopened but he pressed on. He didn't have far to climb before he could reach the ledge. Before he could climb any higher, he heard the sound of the carpet rip.

Bruce stopped breathing when he felt the carpet begin to slacken from his weight. Panic propelled him to climb faster, but it only tore the carpet more. He reached up just in time to grab the stony edge of the broken staircase. The torn bit of the carpet he held in his other hand slipped away and fell down to the rubble. He grabbed hold of the ledge with both hands. His palms and his arm were burning, but he held on. Painfully, he lifted himself up and crawled up the ledge. Gradually, he was able to heave his upper body over it completely. He managed to get his legs over before he collapsed flat on his back. He lay on the cold marble ledge breathing heavily with his injuries throbbing in pain.

After only a short pause, he got up slowly. He was soon on his feet and he was standing right up to the west wing doors. He looked at the doorknob. He would need to use both his battered hands to be able to turn it.

Bruce had stood in that exact spot begging Selina to come out and eat not too long ago. If Selina had locked herself up again, and refused to let him inside, he would be powerless to help her.

His hands closed over the doorknob and began to turn it.

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Selina turned around when she heard her name.

She ran to the other end of the room. Before she could reach the door, she saw Bruce bursting through it.

They only locked eyes for a moment before Selina tackled Bruce and locked him in a tight embrace.

"Ow!" Bruce cried out on the impact. Selina looked up and suddenly realized that he was actually hurt. She took a step back and noticed his bloody hands and bandages. She looked back at him in shock, but he was just smiling back at her. She suddenly felt like punching him.

"You idiot!" She held one his hands and looked at his injured arm more closely, "Look at this! You barely did this properly. And what happened to your hands? Put some bandages on them, too!"

Bruce didn't try to make any excuses. He was silently checking to see if Selina herself was alright.

She was gritting her teeth and shaking her head as she bent down and began to rip up pieces of her dress. She ripped out several long strips of cloth and immediately grabbed Bruce's hands to bandage them herself. "God, I thought you were supposed to be smart! There's nothing heroic about hurting yourself you know. It's just dumb." She sounded angry, but her hands were careful in wrapping up each of Bruce's fingers and his palms. His wounds immediately stained the cloth, but they felt much better under her hands.

Bruce waited for her to finish scolding him before he said to her, "It's good to see you again, Selina."

Selina didn't look up. She continued to fiddle with the bandages on his hands.

"You came back," she said quietly.

Bruce squeezed her hand, despite the pain, "Yes. I said I would."

She didn't squeeze back, knowing it would hurt him, but she held on to his hand.

"Well," Selina began. There were things she had to say. They were brave and noble words that she had been telling herself since he had left, but instead, the words that escaped her were, "you sure took your time getting here then."

Standing together again, the two smiled back at each other.

She looked back in the direction of the rose at the other side of the room. The lurid glow around it was dimming. There was only one flimsy petal left on the stem.

Selina met Bruce's eyes and gave him a sadder smile, "I don't know if you'll be able to save the day this time though."

Bruce glared at the rose and pulled Selina closer, "Selina we can't be here when that flower dies. We have to get out of the castle now."

He turned to look out the door he just came through. They may as well have been high up the face of a cliff. He was trying to think of a way for them to get down safely, but when he turned back to Selina, she was walking back towards the rose.

"Selina!" Bruce ran after her. She had stopped right in front of the rose and he caught up next to her. The base was littered with dead petals. They were past decay. They were all crumbling into ashes. The mark of the curse was vivid and clear on the stone floor like it had just been burned there. The demonic smile seemed to be mocking them both.

"It's so stupid," Selina seemed to muse, her angry voice edged with sadness. "This whole thing is so stupid. That crazy witch could have just cursed me, but she had to drag everyone else into it. All the people in the castle, they'll probably never come back." Selina's hands were balled into fists. Her nails dug into her skin.

Bruce touched her arm, "Selina, this isn't your fault."

"It wasn't anybody's fault. I just wanted to leave this place, disappear without hurting anyone. Then this crazy witch comes along and we all got trapped inside this castle. And now, only I get to escape. It's not fair." Bruce felt Selina's body go rigid. She was shaking. "Even if I get out of here, I still can't leave. This whole damn place could become a pile of rocks and I'd still have to stay here." She stamped her foot at the laughing devil on the floor, "That witch knew there was nothing I could do about it."

Bruce planted himself in front of her, blocking her view of the rose. He held her shoulders squarely with his bandaged hands. He waited for her to meet his eyes.

"Selina, you can't blame yourself for this curse. Whatever that witch told you, none of this is your fault."

The castle rumbled below them. The ground began to shake more forcefully, but Bruce didn't flinch. His hold steadied them both.

Bruce went on, "Selina, it doesn't matter if you're a princess or a thief. I know _you_ , and you don't deserve to be punished for anything."

Selina couldn't see the rose anymore. There was nothing else but the boy speaking to her.

His gaze never wavered, "Selina, I promise I'm not going to leave you here alone. No matter what happens next, I'll stay with you."

She looked at him and knew he meant every single word. He was someone who kept his promises.

Selina forgot the rose, the castle and how her tragic fairytale story was ending in that moment. She looked into Bruce's eyes and thought about a world beyond all of that. A world where she and this prince could be together and everything was simple.

She felt something pierce her heart.

Behind them, the last petal detached itself from the stem. The remains of the flower withered up completely before the petal disintegrated into ash.

The earthquakes grew violent. The glass windows shattered and cold air blew into the room, dousing any light or warmth left inside. Gigantic cracks began to appear and spread all over the walls and floor.

"Selina!" Bruce was yelling now. He turned towards the nearest window, preparing to jump. "We have to-!"

She took his face in her hands and made him look back at her. She held him close and simply said his name.

She kissed him softly.

The sound of destruction was deafening as the whole castle crumbled all around them.

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The air was warm. It was more shocking than a loud crash or a gust of cold wind. Selina hadn't felt a warm summer breeze in a long time.

She opened her eyes to see that she and Bruce were crouched together on the floor. Bruce was holding her firmly so his body would shield her from falling debris. But Selina looked up and there was nothing falling over them. The chamber was completely intact. The earthquakes had not only stopped but they simply vanished. The early morning sun was shining through the clear glass windows.

Bruce opened his eyes and looked around the room. He and Selina both exchanged looks. They both turned at the same time to look at the rose but it was gone. There was no trace of the flower, it's glass case or the demonic mark on the floor.

Bruce looked at the whole chamber. It was like the chaos a few moments ago never happened. A bird flew past the window, singing.

"What…?" he said uncertainly. Outside the day was so clear. The sky was endlessly blue.

The empty room was a marvelous sight compared to the disaster they were standing in only moments before. He turned back to Selina to exchange another look of amazement, but he glanced at her in time to catch a tear rolling down her cheek. Selina caught it quickly and turned away. On impulse, Bruce moved to touch her face. His fingers lightly brushed against her dry cheek. Her skin was very warm through his bandages.

"Selina?" His voice was full of concern. Selina coughed and turned back to face him. She smiled. Her eyes were clear but they gleamed slightly.

"I'm okay," she said. She reached out for his other hand and held it to reassure him.

Bruce was still concerned, but he helped her up to her feet. They took stock of each other and found no sign of damage. They moved together towards the windows. Outside, the grounds were clear and lush. There was no evidence of any snow or frost. From their vantage point, Bruce spied that the walls he had seen collapse were perfectly intact. Even the vines on the walls were blooming with the flowers and greenery of the season. The castle was completely unscathed and it looked magnificent in the daylight.

"The curse," Bruce said, "It was broken somehow."

Selina nodded, feeling the sun on the glass, "I guess so."

Bruce looked at her, "You knew, didn't you? All this time, you knew how to break it."

Selina returned his look with a slightly sheepish one. "Yeah. Sorry I didn't tell you."

Bruce sighed. He was too relieved to react any other way. He followed with the next question, "So how did you do it then?"

Selina spread out her palms and savored the growing heat of the sun. Then she opened the window and let the warm sunlight fill the room. A light breeze came along with it, and she took a long and deep breath. Bruce watched her, thinking she hadn't heard his question.

Since she wasn't forthcoming with an answer, Bruce decided to offer some theories.

Bruce coughed, then said, "Um...was it the kiss?"

Selina laughed. It was full and light. She didn't even bother looking in his direction. She just shook her head in response and continued to enjoy the feel of the sun on her skin.

She leaned her head back, enjoying the way the wind caressed her curls. The light on her face made her eyes glint. She blinked several times and rubbed them like they were tired. When she finally turned her attention back to Bruce, she reached out for his hand again.

"Come on. Let's go outside," she said.

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As they descended the steps, the damage everywhere else inside the castle was gone as well. The chandeliers looked pristine high up on the ceiling. The paintings were back on the walls. All the fragile things that had broken and lay shattered on the floor were back in place. There wasn't even a crack on the grand staircase. The castle interior was in all its splendor.

As they drew nearer to the main entrance, they began to hear sounds of excited and cheerful chatter. Bruce could see there were people just gathered outside the open doorway. Bruce wanted to call out to them, but Selina stopped him. She held a finger over her lips and guided him behind a pillar, moving stealthily. They simply watched the people outside who were in the midst of reunion and celebration. Bruce thought they must have been the people who were absorbed into the castle to fuel its enchantment as Selina had thought. Many of them looked bewildered and a bit dazed, but they all seemed healthy and didn't look any worse for wear. From where they watched, Bruce and Selina couldn't hear them very well. It wasn't clear if they remembered or knew what had even happened to them. Bruce saw a few of them looking up furtively at the castle. Everyone seemed to keep their distance from it. Many of them were already heading for the forest in droves. They looked like they were running away from the place like it was a bad dream.

"I'm glad," Selina said quietly as she watched them leave, "They have their lives back."

Bruce asked, "Shouldn't you let them know you're alright, too?"

"No," Selina replied simply. She waited for a few stragglers to leave before she led Bruce all the way outside. He thought her first steps into freedom would be tentative, but Selina practically skipped her way into the sunshine. She kicked off her shoes and let her toes dig right into the dry dirt. She raised her head to the sun and basked. Then she laughed and rubbed the sunspots out of her eyes. Bruce followed her as she began to wander the castle grounds. The absence of snow revealed a highly saturated world. So many vibrant sounds and smells filled the air. Bruce looked up at the castle and felt like he was seeing it for the first time. The air even seemed more refreshing without magic polluting it.

Selina ambled her way through the grass. She thought about how long it had been since she was outside without needing a cloak. She hadn't even been barefoot outdoors since she was a child. Keeping in pace with her, Bruce kept silent. He was happy to watch her relishing her freedom.

In their silent trek, they only heard more nearby animal noises in the woods. Bruce thought that maybe all the animals in the vicinity had been sleeping as another effect of the curse. Maybe they were just waking up. The air was filled with birdsong and the white noise of chirping and buzzing of insects. It was a complete contrast to the winter and all its solemnity.

They had walked into what Bruce had always thought was just a maze of plain shrubbery. But in fact, it was a garden. Summer flowers were in bloom. Selina knelt down to inspect a flower bed of irises more closely. Next to them was a long stretch of magnolias. Selina held one to her nose. She was careful not to pluck the flower from its stem. It was heartening for him to see that she did not learn to hate flowers during her imprisonment.

Selina took her time in the garden and Bruce stood by her. They had not exchanged a word since they stepped out of the castle. The quiet in the garden felt serene, yet Bruce couldn't quite ignore his own thoughts. His mind kept wandering back to questions that still had no answers. Selina was considering a patch of wild dandelions at her feet. Bruce was suddenly saying his thoughts out loud, "I don't understand what happened back there, Selina. How were you able to break the curse?"

Selina swung her leg and a grasshopper jumped out of her way. She grabbed a wild dandelion with her toes and bent down to pick it up. She stood up slowly and toyed with it in her fingers.

Without looking at him, she said, "We broke the curse, Bruce. We did it together."

Her shoulders sagged like she had breathed in relief, but she had the same expression on her face since they left the west wing. She blew at the dandelion and watched its tiny petal flowers break apart and fly up and around the field.

"I think it was all about letting someone in." She spoke like she was musing to herself, "That crazy witch knew how humans can never be honest with each other. Well," She turned to Bruce, and there was light in her eyes then, "I guess that's true for us, anyway."

Bruce waited for her to say more. Selina sighed, twiddling the flower stem in her hands.

"Forget it. It doesn't matter. It's all over now."

Bruce took a step forward, "Selina, the curse is broken, the people in the castle are safe. You're finally free. But you're...something's wrong." He was close enough to reach out to her, but he didn't just then. "Tell me what's wrong."

Selina's eyes darted away for a moment. She twisted the stem, then broke it in half before letting it fall from her hands.

She was silent for a while, then she cocked her head slightly and asked, "What do you think I should do now?" She glanced at the trees beyond the garden, "No more magic. I can probably get past the woods, but I'd have nowhere to go."

Bruce was a bit surprised. He didn't expect a question like that from her.

His answer was almost immediate; "You could come back with me to Gotham. You can start a new life there. And-" he suddenly felt a bit self-conscious. He was careful with his next words. "And-I would be there with you."

Something in Selina's expression changed as he gave his reply. "Gotham. Of course."

Her eyes strayed among the flower beds surrounding them. "I've had a long time to think about what I'd do if I ever left this place. Way before that witch got here." She crossed her arms over herself like she was cold again, "I always dreamed about going wherever I wanted. Just disappear into the sunset, everyday. But-I don't think that anymore."

She took a deep breath, "I think I need to find my mother."

Selina struggled to keep the bitterness from her voice, "I've never stopped being angry at her. I've hated her every day of my life. No matter what I do or where I go from here, I'll always be angry." Her hands clenched and unclenched around her arms. "But I'm tired of being angry and I'm tired of feeling trapped. I don't want to be like this forever.

"I need to see my mother one last time. I don't know if I can forgive her but I have to find out."

She looked at her bare feet planted in the grass. "I don't know how far I have to look or how long it will take me. I don't even know if she's still alive. It could take me years."

She raised her head to meet Bruce's eyes. Quietly, she asked him, "Would you come with me?"

Something caught in Bruce's throat. The "yes" was at the edge of his lips but it suddenly died there. His thoughts suddenly flashed to Alfred, James Gordon and then his parents. Selina watched his hesitation without surprise.

Selina's eyes never left him. "No, you couldn't and I'm not asking you to." Bruce realized that he had looked away instinctively. When he looked back at Selina, there was a trace of a smirk in her sad smile. She had caught him out.

She gestured towards him with a hand, "Look at you, Bruce. You look like you ran out in the middle of a war. People need you back in Gotham. I wouldn't blame you if you needed to head back there right away."

Defensive, Bruce said, "Selina, I'm not going anywhere." But Selina gave him a look, then asked, "What happened with Alfred?"

Bruce didn't want to change the subject, but he was glad to be able to relay good news. "He's alive. Oswald was holding him as a prisoner. We managed to get him out. He's safe now." There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone when he said the last part. Selina looked at him doubtfully and inquired further, "We? So you didn't save him by yourself?"

"No, the rebellion helped me. We were able to infiltrate the palace and rescue Alfred."

"But Oswald's still the king of Gotham, right? Isn't he going to be looking for you and those rebels now?" Selina waited. Bruce didn't give an answer right away. He had put it out of his mind, but there would be definite fallout from their attack on the palace. Oswald was injured and humiliated. His only course of action would be vengeance. Bruce trusted the rebels to stay one step ahead, but Oswald would be crying out for blood. Innocent people were sure to suffer when he was left to run rampant.

Bruce did not respond. Selina shook her head, saying, "I'm not an idiot, Bruce. You need to go back to Gotham. It's where you belong."

She could see that Bruce was struggling to start some sort of argument. But she didn't need him to spare her feelings.

"It's okay, Bruce." She uncrossed her arms and took a step towards him. She looked up into his troubled face and smiled encouragingly, "Thank you-for saying you'd stay with me but…we both have things we need to do."

Bruce felt the knot in his stomach tighten. He wanted to protest, tell Selina she was wrong.

Selina was waiting for him to respond in any way. She held her breath, suddenly thinking that maybe the story would end differently.

But then his shoulders sagged and he let out a long breath.

"Where will you go?" he asked.

Selina breathed, and ignored the pounding in her ears. The question did make her pause. "I don't know." She looked past the garden and the towards the trees, "I guess I'll start where the search for my mother ended." Though she put her mother out of her mind for many years, as a child, she had paid close attention to the progression of her mother's search before it was cut short. The trail had long grown cold, but she had an idea where to start. "I think she was heading for the coast. It's weird, she could barely float in the water, but she always talked about wanting to swim in the ocean."

Selina never could forget the bittersweet nights when she and her mother would play pretend in her bedroom. Often, they would sail away on her bed like it was a tiny boat in the middle of the ocean. They always went on grand adventures. "It was a dream she always had, and she's never even seen the sea. I'll follow her trail and look for any trace of her."

She tried to imagine her mother living in a house on a sandy beach. It would be right on the edge where waves threatened to wash her away with the tide. Selina shook her head. It was unlikely but it was all she had to go on.

She gave Bruce a confident smile, "I'll figure things out along the way."

A journey to the coast would be a long and exhausting one. Selina would be diving head first into outside world all by herself. But knowing her, she could handle whatever came her way.

He nodded and silence fell between them again. In his mind, Bruce started bargaining with how long he could stay with Selina before he felt compelled to return to Gotham. Miserably, he felt all possibilities leading nowhere. In the end, it wouldn't matter the length of time he would accompany her. He would only be prolonging the goodbye looming over them.

Bruce felt the time he had left with her slipping away. Time and distance would only grow between them as soon as they parted ways. There was no way of knowing when they would see each other again. He felt like there was so much he needed to say to her, but he didn't know where to begin. He tried anyway.

"Selina…this time here with you-," he grasped for the simplest way to tell her, "I was happy."

Selina's face broke into a real smile. "Me too," she said. She turned to face the castle. It wasn't just how the warm stones looked in sun, she saw it differently than she ever had before. "This is the last place I thought I would ever be happy again."

Selina didn't believe in fate. But she wondered how differently things would have turned out if Bruce never found his way to her castle.

Bruce took a step closer until his face was inches from hers. He held her gaze so she couldn't look away this time, "Selina, I won't make you promises I can't keep, but-" Gently, his hand wove into hers. He held her fingertips like they were made of fine glass.

"I will miss you. Please believe that."

It was a common phrase that people said to each other everyday, but Selina realized that she hadn't heard it from anyone in a very long time. And suddenly, she realized that she had no one else in her life who could say it to her.

His gentle grasp held her more securely than a tight grip.

Selina blinked several times. Up close, Bruce could see the tears that had been there since they stepped outside. Selina spoke, her throat tight, "You know, when I was planning to run away from this place, I never had to worry about needing to say goodbye to anyone." Her voice faltered, "I never thought it was sad, but-it's actually really lonely, isn't it?"

Selina shut her eyes. She cringed as everything she tried to hold back overflowed into a swirl of chaos inside her: her sadness, loneliness, anger, fear. Suddenly, she couldn't breath. All she could feel was the dull throbbing in her head and her body seizing up when two arms suddenly enveloped her, and she felt herself being drawn into a warm embrace. Instinctively, as she always did when she was a child, she buried her face into the warmth. The dull throbbing was replaced by the sound of Bruce's heartbeat.

Selina could feel his breath against her skin as he whispered right into her ear. She heard the slight crack in his voice when he spoke, "You'll never be lost or alone, Selina. I'm here. I'll be right here. Just come and find me."

Selina cried then, and she let the tears flow freely. She held on to Bruce like an anchor and slowly, she felt the tide within her subside.

In a voice slightly muffled against his chest, she told the boy holding her in his arms, "Okay."

They stayed that way, with neither one pulling back or pulling away. They didn't exchange another word. There was no other sound but the birds singing in the trees.

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They eventually found themselves at the stables. Grayson was already there calmly grazing next to Slam. Selina's cat meowed loudly at her as she approached. The cat jumped up to Selina's shoulders and proceeded to nuzzle her affectionately. Selina told Bruce that she had made sure the animals were outside and free to run away when the earthquakes had started. She always thought they could escape beyond the magical borders as long as she wasn't with them. She was glad to discover that they had stayed.

Bruce helped her saddle Slam. He even fashioned a leather pouch with a large cup inside where Selina's cat could curl up comfortably. When he started to helpfully suggest what she should bring along, Selina told him she knew what to do. She had a long time to plan for that day, and she was more than prepared.

When Selina was ready, they mounted their horses and trotted side by side. The cat was already dozing in her cup on Slam's pack. When they arrived at the castle gate, Selina stopped and turned to look at the castle one last time. It had been her home as much at it had been her prison. She gave it a long solemn pause before turning away. She took a deep breath and crossed the gate's threshold without looking back.

They took their time in their journey. Selina contemplated at how different her well traveled paths looked in the warm season. Bruce realized after a while that they had probably gone beyond the magical boundary, but Selina hardly noticed.

They reached a meadow by the afternoon. Beyond it was a small hill. The sun was high and the sky remained clear. The shady trees were very inviting after a long ride. It was a good place to stop for a rest. Selina also knew that just over the hill would be the path that led to the next town. She had memorized enough maps to grow very familiar with the geography surrounding Eastend. The next road would lead her further away from her castle and the kingdom of Gotham.

There was a pond nearby and they let the horses drink and graze. Bruce and Selina sat under a tree looking at nothing but the clear expanse of the meadow. They both leaned against the trunk and they sat close together. It was easy for them to slip into another comfortable silence.

Selina was beginning to doze a bit when Bruce spoke.

"Selina, you said that your anger was like a prison. I think mine is, too."

He was turned away from her. She couldn't see his eyes as he spoke but his voice had an edge.

"You're stronger than I am. You want to let it go, but-I don't think I can." She saw that his hands were balled into fists, "I don't know if I ever will."

She leaned forward to hug her knees against her chest. She rested her head between her arms. "You're right. We're not the same. But I'm not like you, Bruce. You're angry, but you use it to help people and fight for good things. You use it to survive."

She turned her head to glance at him. She couldn't see him too clearly in the deep shade, but there was a darkness behind his eyes.

She leaned her knees towards his so they would touch. She gave him a small smile over her arm.

"Maybe someday, you will be able to let it go. People change. You never know."

Bruce stared at Selina. A cool breeze blew past and the shadows of the rustling leaves above them danced across her face.

"I will see you again," Bruce said to her. It wasn't a promise but a statement of a fact.

Her smile grew wider and she closed her eyes. She leaned back against the tree trunk so she could lay her head against Bruce's shoulder.

They sat together for a long while until they both knew it was time.

They both rode up to the hill and paused when they reached the top. Bruce held Grayson back, so he would know not to follow. Selina was looking over the lands above and below. Her eyes were mapping out her course across the fields and over the mountaintops. She caught her breath as excitement immediately gripped her. Her heart began to race with anticipation.

Bruce smiled, knowing that she was already on her way.

He said the last thing they had left to say between them, "Farewell."

She turned away from the sky and the rest of the world only to look at him in that final moment. If Bruce knew what her mother had told her as a child, he would have agreed that Selina was indeed the most beautiful girl in the world. He had never seen her look happier.

"See you around." She gave him her usual smirk before she laughed and pulled Slam's reins. He reared back and then they were off.

She waved at him when she reached the road. Bruce waved back and watched her disappear into the horizon she always longed for.

He held on to the thought of someday.

 **The End.**


End file.
